Perchance to Dream
by spottedhorse
Summary: Catherine keeps having this dream and struggles to find the meaning.
1. Chapter 1

I'm suffering. There's not enough Brass going on. My Brass magnum opus is still in the works but not nearly ready for posting, and this popped into my head. What can I say, I had this dream...

* * *

She woke soaked and breathing heavily. As she forced her heart to slow, she collected her thoughts, trying to remember her dream. She could still feel his hands on her, his warm breath making her tingle. And she ached for him…was wet and ready. "My god," she exhaled as she lay in her bed alone. She closed her eyes and tried to bring his image into her mind, but she couldn't. Who was this very hot man of her dreams, she wondered.

Her thoughts lingered on her dream as she showered. Her hands moved sensually over her body as she tried to remember. Her eyes closed as her hands moved down her torso, sexual tension knotting as she imagined that they were his hands. If only she knew who it was creating this desire in her…

Once she made it to the lab, her mind was on work. After finishing a quarterly report that was already three days late, she was called to one of the seedy motels that dotted the city and was met by Lou Vartann. "Catherine," he greeted her ambiguously.

Catherine nodded at him, equally vague. "So what we got?" she asked.

As he launched into an explanation of the crime scene and the vic, she briefly wondered if he was the man in her dreams. But she quickly dismissed the idea because she knew the feel of his hands and knew the man of her dreams was definitely not him. Lou's touch was always a little possessive, unlike Mr. Dreamy. Closing her mind to the thought, she turned her attention back to the scene.

By the end of her shift, they had a suspect; it had been an easy case and she left the interrogation room confident of a conviction. As she turned the corner in the hallway, she barely missed bumping into Jim Brass. Stepping back, she mumbled an apology for nearly running him over and stopped when she looked at his face. Things had been tense between them since their argument last year. His sadness over the situation showed in his expression.

She knew she'd continued it longer than necessary, the fight. She'd gone over his head and pulled strings to get what she wanted, what she thought was right. And in the end, he'd been right… for the most part. He'd tried to talk to her after they'd had time to simmer down, but she'd brushed him off. Since then, they worked together okay, but the old feelings of friendship and camaraderie were gone. And she regretted it.

She watched as he started to say something to her and then shrugged. "Good night, Catherine," he finally said as he moved to go around her. She turned and watched him as he walked away and her heart plummeted. She really needed to find a way to talk to him, to get back some of their friendship.

Once she was asleep, the dream returned. He was over her enveloping her in his warmth, his hands touching her lovingly. She felt herself arching towards him, needing him, wanting him. "Fuck me," she moaned, "now…" She felt him at her opening and arched to him more. And then she woke up, crying in frustration. Who was this man of her dreams?

That night as she surveyed the latest crime scene, gunfire broke out. Jim was standing nearby and tackled her to the ground as soon as he heard the first spurt from the automatic weapon. "He's on the roof," she heard Jim yell to Mitch, the uniformed officer with them. Jim continued to cover her but she felt his weight shift as he pulled his weapon. She could see him in her mind's eye as he surveyed the area, looking for the shooter.

Another spurt of gunfire helped Jim and Mitch locate the shooter and as the next burst began Jim and Mitch exchanged shots with the shooter and it was over. Jim lifted himself off of her, apologizing awkwardly for knocking her to the ground. "Hope I didn't squish you," he said sheepishly. He was wearing the patently Jim Brass look of protectiveness, the one he reserved for _his_ people. Jim had two categories under the heading of _his_ people; there were the cops that worked for him, who were professionally _his _and there were the people he cared about, who he looked at as _his _personally. He was looking at her with the expression that told her that he still considered her as part of both, in spite of the last year.

Still surprised by the events, Catherine shook her head that he hadn't. "No, you didn't…thank you," said as she brushed off. Feeling him still next to her, she looked up, catching an odd glimmer in his eyes. Then with a smirk, he reached up and pulled some dried grass from her hair. Her eyes widened as his fingers brushed through her hair, his touch creating feelings that she was unaccustomed to from him. Shifting her gaze to his face, she realized just how much she had missed him since their fight. "Jim…I…"

"Hey Jim," Mitch called out to his captain. Jim turned towards the officer and Catherine realized the moment was lost. A feeling of loss stayed with her the rest of the night.

She was dreaming again. This time he was closer than ever. His chest hair ticked her breasts and he was nuzzling her neck, whispering to her. She could feel the pressure of him at her opening, his tip just beginning to enter her….

The ringing of her phone woke her, sweaty and panting. Still clearing her mind she answered, half expecting it to be the lab calling her in. It was a surprise to hear Jim's voice on the other end. "I know you're probably asleep," he said apologetically. "I was too…but I dreamed…well, I just needed to hear that you are okay. I know Vartann is probably there taking care of you and all, but…"

"I'm fine, Jim," she said with a frown. Why did he think Lou was there? She and Lou hadn't been together for months, not since he'd gotten so worked up over things that she considered her business. They'd almost gotten back together after they were blown up a couple of weeks ago but whatever had drawn them together the first time just hadn't been there. So yeah, she was sleeping alone. "You were dreaming…. About me?" Her mind was still fuzzy from sleep and her own dream. Things weren't making sense.

"Yeah…I kept hearing shots and…I didn't make to you in time," he said softly, his voice giving away his upset.

"Oh," was all she could say as the enormity of it hit her. "I'm fine Jim, really. Remember, none of the shots hit me. And besides…you were covering me… protecting me with your body. In fact, Jim Brass…. I thought we had an agreement after you were shot a few years back. You weren't going to get hurt like that again." Her voice sounded edgy, she knew. But between his concern for her and the memory of their friendship back then, she was feeling very emotional.

His chuckle at the other end of the line warmed her. "Yeah, I did promise didn't I? Well, I'm just glad you're okay…and thanks for talking to me. Now maybe I can get some sleep…and I'll let you get back to yours too."

He was thanking her for talking to him? Since when did he do that; feel the need to do that? "Wait a minute," she practically yelled into the phone.

"Yeah?"

"Now that you woke me up, you owe me," she said lightly.

The silence at the other end scared her a little. "I do?" he asked finally.

"Yeah…breakfast…or lunch; whatever time of day it is…"

"But what about Vartann? Wouldn't you rather…"

"Why do you keep mentioning Lou?

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a detective if I hadn't seen what was going on between the two of you… Seriously Catherine, you think you two were hiding it?"

"Noooo..but…Jim, you'd better polish those detective skills a little… we're over. I think he was expecting something that …" Why was she telling him this? It wasn't his business, was it? "Well, let's just say we were looking for different things."

"Oh," was his only response. Then after a heavy silence, he cleared his throat. "So…late lunch maybe?"

She heard the hesitation in his voice, knew he wasn't sure that he wanted to do this. Her instinct was to let it go but something spurred her and she said yes. "I can be ready in less than an hour…"

He was there in forty five minutes. Several things struck Catherine as she opened the door to him. First, he had obviously showered and shaved after they hung up. He was wearing a snug blue/gray polo and jeans, a look she wasn't used to with him. Usually she saw him in suits or maybe slacks and a shirt, but never quite so casual. As she eyed him, all she could think was how good casual looked on him. His collar was open, wisps of his bushy chest hair peeking out tauntingly. And as her eyes made their way to his face, she was surprised by the shyness she saw there. Jim Brass was not shy; it just wasn't possible, she thought. The man definitely fit the name. But as he stood there on her front porch his expression was decidedly bashful.

A smile crept into his expression. "You ready?" he asked.

She smiled back at him. "Sure, let me just grab my…" she turned to snatch her purse from a table in her foyer, "bag." Then she stopped as she looked up at him again. Damn he looked good in that shirt, she thought. Then stepping out, she closed and locked her door and then followed him to his car.

"So where you wanna eat" he asked as they settled in.

"You choose," she said, laying her head against the headrest. She could feel the odd look Jim was giving her, even though her eyes were closed.

She felt the car stop and knew they had arrived when she heard the click of him turning off the ignition. "Wanna go in or are you just gonna take a nap," she heard him ask lightly.

Turning her head toward him, she opened one eye. He was smirking at her. "Mmm, not sure yet," she answered. Then opening both eyes, it occurred to her again how good he looked in his casual attire. The steel blue shirt set off his eyes and gave color to his complexion. Watching as he got out and walked around to her door to open it, she laughed inwardly at where her mind was going. All sixty year old men should look so good in jeans, she thought.

The conversation was light as they ate, almost like the old days. But she sensed awkwardness from Jim, like he was holding her at arms length. She decided she needed to do something about that. "Jim…this…thing," she motioned with her hand as she spoke, "between us…I um….well, I'm sorry."

He looked across the table at her warily. "Catherine?"

She couldn't read him, couldn't tell if he was playing dumb or he really didn't know what she was talking about. Of course he knew, she told herself. So what game was he playing? "Since I made that call, to bring Nate Haskell to Vegas, it's been … well, it just hasn't been the same between us."

Jim sighed as he waved off the waitress that was about to pour him another cup of coffee. Catherine watched as his jaw tensed and then relaxed. His eyes rolled around the table, as he formulated his response. "I thought I could trust you, Catherine. I need to be able to trust the people I work with. If you'd talked to me before…if you'd given me a chance to explain all the reasons it was a bad idea…" He sighed again. "But you just went ahead and made the call. My guess is that you knew what I'd say, what I'd think of the idea. You didn't care…you and Ray had to do it your way and he paid the price. And seeing how things turned out, other people are paying too."

Catherine's stomach churned as he mentioned the way things turned out. Haskell had used his trial as a means of escape. "Yeah, I know…he's in the wind and people died for it….will die for it."

"Look, I'm not trying to lay a guilt trip on you; we all make mistakes and some turn out worse than others. But… this is the kind of thing I would have warned you about…that he would use it to his advantage. I can't cover you if you're gonna go behind my back…or over my head."

"I just thought…I knew we were right; that bringing Haskell here would help the case…and it did."

Jim snorted. "Yeah, maybe. But at what cost?" He paused and looked across the table at her. Then something in his demeanor relaxed. "Look, that's all past. Thing is, I need to know I can trust you and right now…I'm not so sure."

His words hurt…stung deep. But she knew he was right. She did know he'd be against it and so she went over his head. And to make matters worse, she'd been vindictive after and although it hadn't played out exactly like Jim predicted, he'd been right that it would go bad. Catherine didn't like being wrong and she'd lashed out at Jim on several occasions. He'd been her target because he knew better than anyone how badly she'd screwed up. She swallowed roughly and then took a deep breath. Then looking up, across the table into his probing blue eyes, she let the breath out. "I'm sorry. I know I screwed up and …and for awhile, somehow I blamed you. I'm not sure why I acted the way I did, except…" she shrugged, "I've always been able to count on you and…maybe I counted on you too much." She looked down at her hands, tears slipping out of her eyes as she tried to decide what to say next. She was surprised when he reached across and covered her hands with one of his own.

"Hey, you can still count on me…but I have to know I can count on you too," he said softly, his voice laced with emotion.

Nodding that she understood, she fought to contain the barrage of emotions that were overwhelming her. Then finally, when she thought she could speak, she looked up into his face, into his watery eyes. "I've missed you, you know," she said with a weak smile.

The drive back to her house was quiet, each wondering where things would go from here. Jim had hoped all along that they would somehow get back on track; she was after all, one of his favorite CSIs. Catherine was replaying their conversation, hurt that he couldn't trust her but accepting that the blame was hers. She felt terrible. But she also felt hope because he seemed to forgive her…he had said we all make mistakes. Typical Jim Brass, she thought, that he wasn't angry that she screwed up but was angry that she had done so in a way that he couldn't cover for her… help her.

Frowning as her thoughts followed that new twist, she turned to look at him, studying his profile. His jaw was set and firm, with the usual Brass confidence. A thought tickled through her brain that he had a Roman profile and she smiled inwardly at the thought of him in a toga. Somehow in her mind's eye, he was suddenly John Belushi running through a frat house in a toga yelling "toga party."

Her light chuckle caught his attention and he stole a glance over at her. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing… just thinking," she answered.

He grimaced. "Okay, what gives…no fair holding back."

"Okay, okay…just…well, I had this thought that you kind of have a …"

"What?" he said impatiently.

"…Roman profile. And that led to a mental picture of you as John Belushi in Animal House…" Jim smirked. "…in a toga," she finished.

Jim chuckled. "A toga, huh? That's um…scary."

Seeing an opportunity, Catherine continued the conversation. "So were you in a fraternity in college?"

Jim shook his head. "No, I was just back from 'Nam and was just trying to get through school… get on with life. Besides, I got married after a couple of years and that doesn't really fit with fraternity life…at least not what I saw of it."

Catherine looked at him, trying to picture a much younger Jim Brass. "What?" he asked, mildly miffed.

"Nothing, just trying to picture you back then…I'll bet you were something…"

Jim shrugged. "Yeah, I was something alright…" he said with a tinge of regret in his tone. He pulled into her drive and stopped.

Eyeing him, Catherine knew she'd plucked a tender string in him with the probe into his past. "Wanna come in for coffee?" she asked, hoping she could turn his thoughts away.

He smiled at her. "No, thanks but I'd better get home." Sadness overwhelmed her as she climbed out of the car and walked away.

* * *

The end is written but I'm curious to see how you guys think this should go. So drop me a comment or two and tell me how you see it ending.


	2. Chapter 2

So in chapter 1 we mostly got to see things from Catherine's POV. Maybe we'll get a glimpse into what is going on with Brass in this one...or maybe not so much, lol. Anyway, I appreciate all of your comments on the last one. As I said, it is already written. All I'm doing is going back and proofing and fluffing a little. But I love hearing where you guys think it is going or where it should go. You always come up with things I never thought about and it makes me write Brass better. And we all want a better Brass, don't we? YUM!

* * *

That night she was at PD working a case. Standing in the hallway outside one of the interrogation rooms, she was talking to Lou about the suspect when Jim walked by. He gave them both a perfunctory nod as he moved past. Ending the conversation quickly, she followed Jim to his office. He was at his desk, his head in his hand as if something was bothering him. "You look like you lost your best friend," she said softly from the doorway.

He looked up, his brows raised, surprise on his face. Then a scowl crawled across his face. "Maybe I have," he said gruffly.

"Or maybe not," she said as she stepped closer. "I'm still here…" She watched as a genuine smile settled over him, as his fingers flexed, and as he let out a deep breath.

His expression changed as she moved even closer but she couldn't read it, except for a glimmer in his eyes. And suddenly she knew who the dreams were about…who it was she wanted holding her at night.

Something must have changed in her own expression because she saw a question in his eyes. She raised her hand to his cheek, her fingers slinking along his jaw and watched as his eyes widened in surprise and then … fear. "Catherine…what…?"

"Let's get out of here," she said, aware of the glass walls and probing eyes. "I think we need to talk." He tilted his head, looking at her oddly. "We do?"

Catherine chewed her lower lip as she glanced at the headlights in her rearview mirror. Jim was following her home, which is what she wanted…so why was she so nervous? He followed her up her walk and through the door, stopping in the foyer, watching her as she tossed her bag and keys on the small table there.

She turned and smiled apprehensively at him as he watched her intently. "So what now?" he asked, obviously perplexed.

"Drink?" she asked weakly.

His brow furrowed and then relaxed as he shrugged. "Sure."

"I um…don't have Scotch…how about…"

"Water maybe?" he offered.

A few minutes later they stood in her kitchen, water glasses in hand, watching one another. She knew he was expecting her to say something but she didn't know where to begin. His face betrayed the reservations in his mind.

"I umm… I've been having these dreams…" she began. He looked at her thoughtfully, quietly processing what she was saying. She continued, "…And I realized who it was that I was dreaming about…what the dream was about." An eyebrow lifted as he tilted his head, still studying her. "It's you, Jim." She watched as her words settled over him. His eyes narrowed as they pierced hers but he still said nothing.

She swallowed deeply and decided to forge ahead. "I kept dreaming about someone… a man who…well, someone who made me feel safe… and loved." She watched him like a cat as he digested what she'd said. But still he said nothing.

"At first I didn't know who it was…who was…holding me." He wasn't helping her, not moving, not reaching for her as he had in her dreams. Instead, he just stood there, glass of water in hand, and looked at her dubiously. She glanced down at the floor and then took a breath before continuing. "Then the dreams escalated… the man…he…well," and then looking up at him pointedly, forcing all of her courage into play. "…He made love to me and…I wanted him to…I ached for him… for you." Watching him, she waited for his reaction.

His eyes were fixed on her, disbelieving. The muscles in his face twitched, his eyebrow suddenly developing a tic. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and his hand lifted to his brow, his forefinger rubbing along the line of it. Then his hand swiped down his face as he let out a huff. "Let me get this straight, you think …I mean, you want…" His hands fell to his side as he shifted his weight again. "Catherine, I'm not sure…I mean, we've known each other a lot of years and I don't get it. I mean, why now? Why…me?" He looked like he was in distress over her revelation and she supposed she could understand.

"I don't know…exactly. At first I thought it was Lou but… it wasn't. I know it seems weird but …I really think the dreams were my subconscious trying to make me see what should have been obvious… for a long time." She paused to collect her thoughts. "We've always been friends and until I …did what I did…we were close. I learned to depend on you, knew I could no matter what but didn't realize how much my feelings were changing. And since there's been this…thing… between us, I've felt it even more and…"

"Catherine, the thing…" he said, motioning between them, "was your making. You went over my head and after all the dust settled I was ready to let it go but you wouldn't let it rest. Like I said earlier, I have to be able to trust the people around me…especially the one," he paused with a sigh, "especially the woman I love. Trust is a big issue with me after what my ex did and I can't….I won't get involved with anyone I can't trust."

She looked at his face for an indication of what he was feeling about her, but his expression was neutral. He was also absolutely still as he looked back at her. And she knew he meant what he said; things wouldn't go any further between them because he couldn't trust her. Her heart sank and tears began to flood her eyes. She had blown her chances with him before she ever even realized what it was she wanted from him. All these years, everything that was between them, it was all gone because…

"I'm sorry Jim," she cried. "My ego got ahead of my good sense. I was trying so hard to prove…" she sobbed, "…to prove…"

"I know what you were trying to prove, Catherine. And in trying to prove it, you lost what made you good in the first place…one of the best of the best. You're the leader of them, Catherine. And your ego nearly got one of them killed. And now Haskell is out there and it's just a matter of time until he starts killing again. Is it worth the boost your ego got?"

"No. I know…I know what you are saying, I know I screwed up. And what's worse, I tried to blame you. And I'm sorry." She looked at him, tears trailing down her face, and hoped he believed her sincerity. "But are you ever going to forgive me…let it go?"

He seemed to melt as he watched the tears fall from her eyes. His fingers twitched as he stood there in her kitchen, obviously wondering what he was going to do next. Finally, he made a decision and stepped to her, encompassing her in his arms.

"I'm sorry," she said again as she fell into him.

He tightened his hold on her and held her close, his hand cupping the back of her head as he held her face against his shoulder. "I know, I know," he said gently. "You made a mistake, Honey. We all do…"

"But…but you can't trust me and…"

Still holding her, he sighed, his own emotions conflicted. "Trust is something you earn, Catherine. So many years I knew I could count on you…and then you pulled a stunt like that. I don't expect us to always see things the same way but I at least expect us to talk about them … weigh the options. You've always kinda done things your way, but this time… "

He felt her sob as she absorbed what he was saying and he felt like a heel. But she had cut him deep and besides…

"More than that though, you scared me," he confessed. "You've been going off more and more, doing your own thing like you're one of my guys. And while you've been trained in the use of your weapon, you are not a trained cop. Before Haskell it was that woman with rabies. Hell, I wasn't even on duty that night but I heard the call and it scared the shit out of me. I tried to talk to you then but you weren't listening…"

"I wondered why you showed up at the scene," she said from his chest.

"You think I'm not gonna hear about it when one of _my _CSI's gets hurt? You think it doesn't affect me when you guys go off and get yourselves into trouble? Warrick ripped me up just as much as it did you…and Sara and Nicky… hell, even when Sanders got beat up a few years back. You think I don't care? For all practical purposes, I got no family…you guys are it. And it makes me mad when you go off doing stupid things that might get you killed… you especially."

"Me especially?" she asked with a muffled voice.

"Yeah," he answered quietly.

"So…you do care about me?"

She felt him tense. "I never said I didn't care," he said gruffly. "If I didn't care, then there wouldn't be a problem, would there?"

"No….no, I suppose not…."

Jim's hold on her loosened and he shifted his weight away from her, indicating that he wanted out of the hug so Catherine backed away, afraid to look at him. "Look," he said tentatively, "I'd better go. I mean, you're looking for something from me right now that I'm not prepared to…I mean…."

"It's okay," she said as she raised her hand to stop him. And then with a strained smile, she added, "There're my dreams after all; I shouldn't expect you to stay."

She heard him exhale and then grunt. "Yeah, well… I'll see you tomorrow?" he said awkwardly.

"Yeah…"

She watched through the window as he pulled out of her drive. Feeling sad and very lonely, she decided to head for bed. Nothing else interested her.

Jim Brass stopped at a bar on his way home. Despite his outward calm, he was a mess. He'd quietly been in love with Catherine for years but had known it there was no way she'd give him the time of day…not that way anyway. Her stunt, going over heis head, had made him mad but her behavior after…all the barbs and digs had hurt. He'd retreated, trying to give her space to get over it. And then suddenly, she was standing there telling him…what, he wondered.

He ordered a double and sat at the bar, staring down into the glass, lost. It had been tempting to take her up on what she seemed to be offering. But he knew it would have ended in disaster. He wasn't her kind of man and he'd resigned himself to that fact years ago. So why was she all of a sudden interested?

He took a sip and let the liquid sit in his mouth before letting it burn its way through him. His mind replayed their conversation, refusing to accept that she could really want what she was suggesting. Astonishment rippled through him as it had when she'd told him that she was having dreams about him. It just wasn't possible, he mused. And it were true, how ironic, after all the nights he'd awakened from vivid dreams about her.

Of course it wasn't true. But why would she say it if it weren't? He shook his head, in part refusing to believe the impossible and in part from utter confusion. Why now, he wondered again.

His mind flashed to the countless nights of his own dreams, of lying awake after one of them, his mind refusing to let go of the images and his body yearning for her…yearning for the dreams to come true. But the dreams had diminished over the last few years and so had the yearning. Face it, he told himself; you're getting old.

He stared into the bottom of his glass, deep in his thoughts when another reality occurred to him. You're gonna die alone, he told himself. And then throwing back the last bit of liquid in his glass, he swallowed and set the glass down, the thud of it hitting the bar sounding like a heavy door closing to him.

Feeling fractious by the time he made his way back to the parking lot, Jim sneered at a group of thirty something guys heading inside. One stopped and barked at him, "you got a problem mister?"

Ignoring his instinct to just walk away, Jim stopped and looked at the man. "Is there a reason I should?"

"No. But if you did have one, I'd have to beat it out of your sorry old ass."

Jim's eyebrow shot up and he grunted. He knew he should have walked away but now….

"Look junior, my sorry old ass can whoop yours anytime," he declared.

The next thing Jim knew, the man's fist was connecting with his nose. Jim hit the ground hard but in the mood he was in, he was back on his feet almost instantly, ignoring the pain in his face and back. His eyes narrowed as he sized up his attacker and made a quick decision on his own attack.

Twenty minutes later, he was sitting on the back of an ambulance with an ice pack on his face while the EMT checked his vitals. He lifted the pack long enough to watch another medic load his opponent into another bus. A sinister smirk started to form on his face but he groaned as his skin moved. He moved the pack back into place.

He heard a chuckle to his left and cracked an eye open to see Mitch standing there, shaking his head. "You gonna hear about this one," the uniformed officer told him. "Ecklie's gonna be all over you in the morning," he chuckled.

Hurting too much to reply, Jim simply shrugged his shoulders. The groan that resulted just gave Mitch more reason to laugh. "So, who threw the first punch?" Mitch asked as he tried to get down to business. "You know I have to ask."

"He did," Jim mumbled. "Not that it's gonna matter," he said chagrined. Then looking across at the officer Jim told him, "That's how it all started." Mitch looked up from the pad he was writing on, confused. "He asked a question," Jim answered his unspoken question wryly.


	3. Chapter 3

Many thanks for your supportived and suggestive reviews! I'm glad you are enjoying.

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"You're lucky Mr. Martin's friends backed up your story that he threw the first punch," Conrad Ecklie snarled the next afternoon. Jim sat across the Under-Sheriff's desk listening but not really caring what the man said. His nose hurt; hell, his whole face hurt. He'd started to not come in for the shift but he had a case to wind up. Besides, this wasn't going away, he knew; just get it over with, he told himself that morning in the shower.

Ecklie droned on and on about possible consequences and Jim nodded at the appropriate times. At least, he hoped it was the appropriate times. He really wasn't paying much attention. Finally he sensed that it was over and he stood, ready to walk out when Ecklie took his last shot.

"Have you thought about retiring, Jim? I mean, you're getting to the age when most guys want to and honestly, don't you think you've caused the department enough embarrassment?"

Jim clinched his jaw so tight that his teeth hurt. "I'll give it some thought," he growled as he stormed out.

It was a slow day crime-wise, so Jim spent most of the shift in his office taking care of his administrative duties and trying to keep a low profile. By the end of his shift, his head was throbbing and he was feeling grim.

For the wrong reasons, Jim knew Ecklie was right. He needed to start thinking about retiring. His reflexes were slowing and if he were honest, his cynicism was turning to pessimism. The crooks were winning and he just didn't care anymore. He'd seen too much to believe he was really making a difference.

He was closing the last file on his desk when he heard a rustle at his door. Glancing up, he saw Catherine leaning against the door jam. "I heard you had redecorated," she said with a throaty voice.

He looked up and grunted, not knowing how to respond to her after last night.

She took his response as an invitation and stepped in. Then turning, she closed his door and followed that with moving around the room, closing his blinds, shutting out any prying eyes that might be in the hall. "We need to talk," she said firmly.

Jim frowned. "I thought we talked last night."

"Yeah, but… I don't think we really got anywhere with it. Do you?"

Jim sighed as he leaned back in his chair, his hand motioning for her to sit. She ignored the gesture and walked around his desk. Leaning down, she let out a small gasp as she got a closer look at his face. "Ouch," she said softly. "That hurt."

Jim grimaced as he sat up. "Still does."

"Was this… the fight, I mean, your way of dealing with…our conversation?" She moved around the desk to sit in the chair across from him.

Jim leaned back again and loosened his tie. Then reaching into his bottom drawer, he pulled out a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. "No, this was my way of dealing with our conversation," he said as he poured their drinks. "I stopped at the bar for one."

Catherine peered at him over the rim of her glass. His face looked awful, his nose was swollen and angry and framed by two black eyes. "And ended up in the middle of a brawl?" she asked as she sipped her drink.

"No, not a brawl. I was on my way out when a jerk asked a stupid question." Rubbing the back of his head with his hand, Jim shrugged. "I guess he didn't like my answer."

Catherine's smile was wane as she pondered what the question might have been. "I'm sorry, Jim."

"We're not gonna do that again, are we?" he asked in amused frustration. "Cause I really don't want to repeat last night."

"You look tired," she said empathetically.

Yeah," he replied. "Didn't get much sleep."

"Your nose hurt…or was it something I said?"

He looked at her guardedly. "Both."

"I meant what I said, Jim. I think I've been having those dreams because I'd been burying my feelings."

"Yeah, you buried them alright. I never had a clue and I'm pretty good at detecting things."

"Yeah, well… I'm pretty good at going in the wrong direction when it comes to men," she said self-deprecatingly.

"You seemed to be doing okay with Vartann." He couldn't help the little bit of jealously he felt about the other detective, even though Jim knew there would never be anything lasting between him and the woman who was sitting across from him.

"Yeah, until he got …too possessive." There was a tinge of anger in her voice…and regret, Jim thought. "Your possessiveness has always been…" she said as she looked at him meaningfully.

"Professional," he finished for her. "…And as a friend and nothing more." His voice had a hint of warning to it.

She looked at him speculatively. "I don't believe that," she said crossly. "You're always at my shoulder when we are at scenes, it seems…and I remember you there when Lindsey got kidnapped. I remember your face when we walked by. And…when Sam was murdered…you came to the scene and…you were more interested in me than the crime. There've been other times too, when I was hurt or scared… or you were just worried about me. You talked about when that woman bit me; I remember how upset you were. It…confused me. I know you care, Jim….more than you're willing to admit."

Jim groaned. She wasn't going to let it go. "Catherine, where's all this coming from? I mean, you haven't looked my way in almost twenty years… Why all of a sudden am I in your crosshairs?"

"You're dodging the question, Jim. How do you feel about me…really?"

Sighing deeply, Jim fidgeted with his glass. How honest did he want to be? Watching him, Catherine knew there was a battle brewing in his mind and she was worried about what his answer might be.

Finally he looked across at her. "I was in love with you for a long time, Catherine… even before your divorce. But you were married…and a colleague. Besides, I knew I didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of getting anywhere. So I just kept it to myself."

Catherine's eyes widened. "I…never realized…."

"You weren't supposed to. Like I said, you were married; and then later, you were always looking in another direction. I knew…know, that I'm not in your league."

"Not in my league? What does that mean?"

Jim put his glass down with a huff. "Shit Catherine, you're gorgeous. And all the guys I've seen you with…they, well…they're good-looking... younger…athletic builds… pretty boys. Me, I'm ….just an ordinary Joe, nothing spectacular."

Catherine's mouth gaped. "Ordinary? You? I don't think so…"

"Oh come on, Catherine…get real. My face doesn't turn heads. I'm…well, let's just say middle age has done its damage."

"But…you're a lot of things those others weren't."

"Yeah," Jim snorted. "Right. That's kind of like asking if a girl is pretty and being told that she has a great personality."

Looking at him speculatively, she considered what he'd just said. "Maybe I was waiting for you to make a move," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe since you seemed to be hitting on every woman in town but me, I thought I didn't rate in _your_ book…"

Jim grunted. "Like I said, you were married…and a co-worker; subordinate for awhile."

She stood and moved around the desk to him again. "Well…" she drawled, "I'm not married anymore and I'm not your subordinate either…" Leaning over, she lifted her hand to his face, tracing his jaw. Then she moved to kiss him.

He pulled away from her slightly, his face a picture of surprise. Then a subtle change came over Jim and he lifted his hand to her chin, tilting her face slightly. And then very tenderly, he kissed her. And then the kiss wasn't so tender. And she responded, both to his tenderness and his …what? What was he feeling, she wondered.

She pulled back, trying to decide. He looked at her warily. "Jim?"

"I've wanted to do that for a lot of years, you know … kiss you," he said with a gravely voice.

"You have?" She said, not sure of herself or where this was going.

"Hey, I'm a guy," he said in his self deprecating manner. But he was watching her for a response.

Suddenly she felt frustrated. She had been trying to tell him something important…about her feelings for him, new as they were and he wasn't being especially helpful. And then he kissed her and it felt…spectacular. But then he seemed to be making a joke. He often covered with humor; was that what he was doing now? Covering? "Yes, you are," she said lightly. "But not all guys want to kiss me…"

Jim chuckled and shifted in his chair. "Hey you haven't been paying attention, and that's not like you. Every guy that meets you wants to kiss you…and more. But most of us know we don't stand a chance with you so we just … admire from a distance."

Catherine frowned. "Don't stand a chance? Well, yeah… despite what some might say, I don't go around givin' it up for every guy I meet, but…" This wasn't going the way she'd hoped for. "Jim," she huffed, "I'm trying to tell you that…well, that I'd like to see where things could go with us and you're…I dunno… making a joke out of it."

His grin faded and his features settled into a more gentle expression, one of caring. "Honey look, things have been a little rough between us for the last few months and you're feeling guilty about it. That's all it is. You don't love me; at least not in _that_ way. If you did, it would have surfaced long before this." His ears suddenly went pink as he shifted his weight again and then rubbed the back of his head with his hand. "I um…believe me, I 'd be, you know…honored… if you really did have those feelings for me but we both know that just ain't the way it is."

She frowned at him, her temper rising. "I don't know that. I've been trying to tell you…"

"That you've been having these dreams… And I think it's because you're feeling bad about how things have been between us." He took a deep breath and tilted his head slightly to look into her eyes. "Honey, I love you too but just not that way. And when you take a step back from this, you'll see I'm right. You don't love me either."

Tears began to trickle down her face. "You don't love me?"

She sounded so heartbroken that his eyes began to sting. "I'm not too good at that sort of thing, Catherine. I'm not sure I really know how to love a woman and at my age…well, it's just too late to learn."

He was suffocating, unable to breathe from the nearness of her and the hurt he saw in her eyes. But it was better this way, he thought.

She straightened up and after smoothing the lines of her slacks, she walked away from him. As she reached the door, she turned and gave him a hard look. "I don't believe any of that Jim. You've got a big heart and I know you could love someone and she'd be very lucky. But even though you said you were in love with me before, I'll let it drop." And then she opened the door and was gone before Jim could think of a response.

Once he got home, he took one of the pain meds the doctor had given him and headed for bed. Sleep didn't come easily though and was interrupted frequently by dreams about a certain redhead.

* * *

Hmmm... after the last espisode and all the spoilers that are floating, I might have to reconsider how this goes. Brass was a player, eh? I always suspected that. He can play with me anytime, lol.


	4. Chapter 4

A week went by with Catherine only seeing Jim in passing in the halls either at PD or the Lab. They would nod or speak, eyes never quite meeting but neither quite able to look away either. If they had looked, each would have noticed the dark circles under the eyes of the other, since neither was getting much sleep. And then another week went by…and another.

Catherine had said she would drop it and she had every intention of sticking to her word. Only problem was, she couldn't get Jim Brass out of her mind. Jim was relieved that she hadn't pursued the conversation any further…at least, at first. But then his mind began to betray him and carried on a constant game of what ifs. And Jim Brass was smart enough to know that those what ifs are what eat you up.

Finally, in the third week they ended up at a scene together. It hadn't started out that way. Ray was the CSI on the scene and was going about his job, collecting evidence and taking pictures. Jim was doing his part, interviewing possible witnesses and overseeing the patrol officers as they herded the looky-loos that were inevitable in the very public area just outside the Wynn.

Jim caught the SUV pulling up out of the corner of his eye and turned to see who else was coming to the scene. He was mildly surprised to see Catherine slide out and head in Ray's direction. Standing still, he watched as she sauntered across the pavement and under the crime scene tape, headed in the direction of the other CSI. Briefly he debated whether or not to join them but decided against it. If there was anything he needed to know, they'd tell him. And if was something else…well, he needed to keep a distance from Catherine anyway. So he turned to Officer Collins that stood about five feet away and began talking. They guy was young and hadn't seen much of this kind of crime. He was having a tough time and Jim thought a little distraction might help the young officer regroup. Consequently, he didn't hear when Catherine approached him from behind.

"Jim?" she said. "Ray showed me what he's got. This is bigger than we first thought, so I'm calling Greg in to help Ray."

Jim stopped talking, his body tensing at first and then relaxing. Why did she have to use that voice, he wondered as he closed his eyes to collect himself. God, it sent shivers down his spine, the kind of shivers he couldn't afford while on duty... the kind of shivers that were anything but professional.

He turned to look at her and not being able to look at her face, his eyes settled on a part of her body that further challenged his professionalism. As he realized where his gaze had settled, heat coursed through him, some pooling in his groin producing decidedly unprofessional results and more creeping up his neck and into his ears creating more awkwardness.

Catherine was a keen observer and she understood what was happening. Besides, it wasn't hard to guess where his eyes had landed. Internally, she was smirking, even gleeful, while externally she fought to maintain a straight face.

"Yeah, okay." Jim tried to look at her face but he couldn't bring his eyes up to meet hers. Besides, his dreams had been full of the objects of his focus…well, not objects exactly but he couldn't let his mind go with the vernacular, not here. Slowly, he shifted his gaze and began to look around, as if scanning the area. "Yeah, Ray could probably use the help," he said as he tried to cover.

Catherine couldn't help letting a grin grow on her face. There was no doubt about where Jim's mind was and it wasn't the case. "Well, I have a scene of my own to go to, so I'll see you later."

Jim's discomfort increased a few hours later when he and Catherine were called to the same crime scene in a residential neighborhood on the outskirts of town. He arrived first, answering a call from a uniformed officer. Bates was a seasoned patrolman and had seen a lot of odd things over the years but he was obviously uneasy as Jim approached.

"You said a 419," Jim said as he walked up to the officer.

"Yeah. I was called out to back up animal control. A neighbor called in about a possible hoarding situation…"

"Hoarding?" Jim's mind went to a case a few months back where a dead body had been found in a house where the man had been hoarding.

"Yeah…you know, animal hoarding. They collect animals and it gets to be too many and they can't take care of them."

"Yeah, okay…I get the picture," Brass said.

"No, I don't think you do," Bates replied. "All you have to do is walk close to the house to smell the stench. And it's impossible to go in…the smell is just…"

Jim waved his hand to stop him. "Okay…so did somebody die from the smell?" He was confused. Where did homicide come in?

"No…at least I don't think so. But when animal control went in to start collecting the animals, he found a DB."

"Has the coroner been called?" Things were beginning to fall into place.

"On his way. The body is…in bad shape."

"Do we know who it is?"

"Not yet. The owner is accounted for… and right now we can't even tell if it is a man or woman."

Jim knew it was his imagination. They weren't close enough to actually smell the house, but his nose was already reacting, causing his lip to curl. He hoped he wouldn't have to go in, but he knew it was a false hope. "Where's the owner now?"

Bates pointed to the Animal Control van. "He's trying to convince Meyers to let him keep some of the animals."

"Sounds like he is more concerned with the animals than the dead body inside."

"Yeah, he is," Bates said with a shrug. "I could barely get any answers out of him about who might be in his house. He was too busy watching Meyers load the animals."

Jim shook his head in disgust. Then he walked over to the van, nodding to Meyers and turning his attention to the owner.

Catherine pulled in behind his car just as Jim finished trying to question the man, John Bowman. He walked over to meet her and explain what he could.

After their earlier encounter, Catherine was feeling a little more hopeful than she had the past few weeks; hopeful that maybe all was not lost in the case of Jim Brass. But as he approached her now, she felt butterflies ruffling her in stomach. How would he behave this time, she wondered.

Jim was wondering the same thing as he approached. He managed to keep his tone professional…and the direction of his eyes. In fact, this time he looked at her squarely, his eyes locking onto hers immediately. After a quick run down of the few facts they had, he followed her into the house. Bates had been right, the stench inside was unbearable.

Jim pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it over his nose as they made their way to the body. Standing back, he let Catherine do the dirty work, kneeling over the body to examine it closer. "Can't really tell much about it here," she said. "We'll have to get it back to the morgue…"

As if on cue, David Phillips showed up. Kneeling across from Catherine, he began a cursory exam of the body and determined that it was male. "Does he have any ID," Jim asked quietly.

David felt the pockets on the dead man and produced a wallet. He handed it up to Jim, who took it with his handkerchief, unwilling to touch it with bare hands. Opening it carefully, he read the name on the driver's license. "Eric Bowman….wait, that's the last name of the house owner." Jim bolted from the room, glad to have a reason to escape the stench.

He moved across the yard quickly to the squad car where the owner sat. "You got a son?" he asked the older man.

John Bowman turned to face Jim briefly. "Yeah. Hey why'd you take my animals?"

"Forget the animals. What's your son's name?"

"I can't forget them, they're my life," the man said tearfully.

"Your son's name," Jim barked.

"Uh…Eric. But he hasn't been to see me in awhile. He used to come by sometimes, you know…to see how I was doing. But one day he said I should get rid of some of the animals, maybe half of the dogs and even more of the cats. I didn't want to do that."

"So what happened then?"

"He started picking up all the ones he could get to and…and I pushed him."

Jim waited for the man to finish the story but the man's eyes went back to the animal control van, where they were still securing some of the dogs. "Then what? Come on…focus here." Jim was running out of patience.

Bowman looked back at Jim. "I dunno. I went to the other room…didn't wanna talk to him no more." He shrugged. "Guess he got the message 'cause he never came back."

"Never came back? He never left, you son of a bitch. Your son has been lying in that filth since you pushed him down and you just left him there…"

Catherine stepped out of the house just as a large dog broke away from Meyers. The dog bounded across the lawn towards the house. Meyers let out a yell, warning Catherine to look out. The yelling drew Jim's attention and he turned to see the dog headed for her. He started to run in her direction but the dog got there first, knocking her down as he loped into the house.

Jim stopped at the doorway, panting. Holding his hand out, he offered her help up. "You okay?"

She took his hand and stood with his help. "Yeah," she said as she began to brush off.

"I didn't move out of the way…" She didn't finish because the dog bounded back through the doorway, knocking her into Jim. He caught her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to him. His heart leapt into his throat as his pulse quickened.

Meyers and Bates were trying to retrieve the dog, who was giving chase around the front yard. But Jim didn't care; he had her in his arms and she seemed to be content there because she wasn't making a move. He chanced looking into her face and what he saw there took his breath away. Fighting every instinct he possessed, he pulled away from her, struggling to get his equilibrium back. But his chest was threatening to explode from the pounding of his heart. He cleared his throat and unable to speak, he nodded before walking away.

Catherine watched as he approached the patrol car again. She'd seen his reaction and understood what it had taken for him to walk away from her, but he had done it. Suddenly she felt very sad…but then a spark of hope flickered again. It had been difficult…he did want her, despite what he said.

She couldn't take her eyes off him as he stood at the car, talking to Bowman. Something the man said riled Jim, because he started yelling at the man. "People like you shouldn't have kids," Jim said. "The damned animals mean more to you than your own flesh and blood…"

The dog reacted to Jim's yelling and headed for him. Catherine yelled "look out" but it was too late. The dog lunged at Jim before he could turn around. Running towards Jim, Catherine watched in horror as Jim went down, the dog snarling and nipping. Meyers ran up and snagged the dog with a loop and pulled him off.

Catherine was relieved to see Jim sit up but it was obvious the dog had bitten him. She knelt next to him, her eyes sweeping his body for signs of bite marks. "He got you, didn't he?"

Jim groaned. "Yeah…my arm," he said as he gingerly pulled on his sleeve. Blood was pouring from a wound on his forearm. "Damn….he ruined my shirt," Jim snarled.

Catherine heard Bates calling for a bus, so she concentrated on Jim. "It's bleeding pretty bad," she told him. "Let me get my first aid kit…" she started to get it but suddenly Meyers appeared with a kit. "We get these a lot," the man said apologetically.

Catherine took the kit, opened it, and pulled out a swab to clean the wound. Jim sat quietly, watching her. His arm was beginning to throb but he didn't care. There was something mesmerizing in the way she was taking care of him. He was entranced.

Her expression was intense as she swabbed the area. "Ooo, this looks deep," she said sympathetically. He glanced briefly at the wound but his eyes snapped back to her face quickly. Weeks worth of suppressed emotions were coming to the surface and he was battling to hold them at bay and wondering why.

An ambulance arrived and within seconds an EMT was next to Jim. He checked Jim's arm, cleaned it again, and then bandaged it. "You really should go the ER and get this checked out," he told Jim.

Jim started to protest but Catherine silenced him. "We don't know what that dog's been exposed to. He's right, Jim, you should go the ER."

Not taking his eyes off her, he nodded his resignation. She smiled and patted his shoulder. "Good."

The EMT closed his kit and was preparing to load Jim in the bus when another call came over his radio. There was a fire nearby. Jim looked at the man and said "Go…"

Zeke, the EMT, started to protest but Jim waved him off. "I can get a ride…you go to the fire." Zeke agreed and quickly disappeared into the ambulance.

Catherine watched as they drove away. "So now what?"

"I can dr…"

"No, I'll take you. Your arm's gotta be hurting by now. Besides, I want to be sure you get there," she said as she stood to walk to her SUV.

Assuming his best hurt puppy look, Jim replied. "What, you don't trust me?"

Catherine stopped in her tracks and turned to him, unsure what he meant…was he poking at her again? But seeing his expression, she realized he was only teasing her and so she relaxed. "Yeah I do, with everything I am," she replied softly.

Their eyes met and something crumbled within Jim. Carefully he got up and followed her, his mind and his heart to full for words.


	5. Chapter 5

Jim's arm ached as they rode to the hospital and his head felt like it would explode. Consequently, he tried not to think, not to feel, not to consider the events of the last hour or so. Still, his mind replayed the feel of her in his arms and his stomach insisted on producing the butterflies that always seemed to accompany her. And his confusion kept a lump in his throat. It was all just too much as he tried to sit quietly on the passenger side of her car.

Finally they made it and he was in the ER, sitting alone in a tiny cubicle. She was near; his "Catherine radar" was on high alert. The door opened and a nurse stepped in. Surprise registered as she turned and he recognized her.

"I had hoped we'd see each other again under different circumstances, Jim," she teased.

He swallowed back the fear that rose in his gut. What if Catherine heard that? What would she think? And then he collected himself. Why should it matter? "Yeah, well…"

"It's okay," she said as she patted his arm. "I knew what it was and that you wouldn't be calling again anytime soon," she said with a smile. "But it _was_ nice …," she said huskily.

As she went about her business, checking his vitals and unwrapping the bandage, Jim remembered the last time Annette Jennings had touched him. What a night that had been…

_You look like you could use a drink," she said softly from her stool next to him at the bar._

"_Yeah, if I can get the bartender's attention," Jim growled._

"_You live here…or just visiting," she asked._

"_Um…no, I live here. But this is my first time in this bar."_

"_I kind of thought so…Jerry usually watches for his regulars." She smiled and then turned towards Jerry. "Hey, this fella needs a drink, Jer…" Jerry made his way over took Jim's order and returned quickly with a double._

_Jim took a long drink and set his glass down, staring into the liquid. She was watching, he knew. He also knew the exact instant when it clicked with her. "Hey, I know who you are," she said. He didn't look up, not wanting to see the anger, the disgust, or the pity that was sure to be in her expression. But he couldn't ignore her hand when it covered his on the glass. "I guess you could use a drink."_

_When she spoke, all he heard was empathy so he ventured a look. She was pretty, brown hair and light eyes…thirty something with an understanding expression. Maybe he could stay long enough to finish his drink._

"_You've had a rough couple of weeks," she said matter of factly. "The funeral was today, wasn't it?"_

_All Jim could do was nod. He couldn't speak about it, not that he wanted to anyway. Her hand squeezed his a little tighter. "Hey, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I um…well, it's just lousy, you know…. The whole situation was just lousy."_

_Again, all he could do was nod. "Look, why don't we talk about something else?" And then she began talking about her job. She was a nurse. And before long, she had him laughing, something he didn't think he would ever do again. And not long after that, they ended up at her place._

_She'd been aggressive, more than he usually cared for. But that night he'd needed it. And as he'd buried himself in her, she'd wrapped her long legs around him, her hands searching his back for places to grab hold, and she'd forced him deeper. Even after he'd found release she hadn't let him stop, milking every last ounce out of him. And as he'd emptied, he'd also let go of the hurt and found some peace. Not the lasting peace of Daniel Bell, but at least a little peace. And when it was over, she'd looked at him knowingly. Yeah, she was a nurse, caring for the wounded even when she wasn't working._

Finally Jim found his voice. "Annette, I um…well, that night… you kind of saved my life, you know."

She looked at him oddly. "You didn't strike me as suicidal…just… wounded."

"So it _was_ just a pity fu…" he stopped himself as he watched her expression turn to one of hurt.

"No, it wasn't. It ever occur to you that maybe you weren't the only one hurting that night…maybe I got as much from it as you did?"

Jim's brow furrowed. "No, I um…guess I was so wrapped up in my own…"

With a hand pat that he remembered well, she told him, "well you gave as good as you got, okay." And with a smile she headed for the door. "I'll be back with the doctor in a minute."

"Annette," he called to her. She turned and looked at him amusedly, waiting to hear what he wanted. "I…the woman that came in with me…"

"Don't worry," she grinned, "she won't hear it from me."

He watched her walk out with bemusement. He didn't care if Catherine knew about that night…at least he didn't think he did, but he was wondering where she was. He'd barely completed the thought when he heard the door open again. Glancing up, he saw Catherine peeking around the door. "You okay?" she asked with a smile.

He nodded, suddenly feeling very grateful she was there. "Waiting on the doctor," was all he could manage to say.

He could feel her looking at him oddly. _So she did hear some of that with Annette…_ Her reaction when Annette returned with the doctor confirmed his suspicions. Catherine watched the other woman closely, sizing her up, and mentally making comparisons, Jim thought.

Annette was an efficient nurse, quietly watching and anticipating the doctor's needs as he examined Jim's arm. Twelve stitches and a couple of shots later, the doctor told Jim he was free to go. "That dog is being monitored by the vet," the doctor said. "But I'm recommending that you get the shots for rabies anyway. We'll have them here by tomorrow afternoon. It won't be fun, but it's a hell of a lot better than rabies."

Jim glanced at Catherine, who was giving him an understanding nod. He sighed and agreed to return for the rabies shots. _Damn…_

Back in her car, Jim sat quietly as she buckled herself in. Then she looked across a t him and gently reached across, covering his hand with hers. "You going to be okay on your own?"

"Yeah. Probably will just hit the sack anyway. But I need to get my car," he replied.

"Bates took care of it. It's in your slot at PD. I'll take you home and swing by for you tomorrow…?"

"I appreciate the ride home. But I can get a cab tomorrow." All of a sudden he was feeling very old and defeated. And he wasn't quite sure why.

Catherine drove without talking, sensing that Jim wasn't in the mood for it. And when they got to the house, he slipped out, turned and thanked her, and then disappeared into his house. Catherine drove home with a heavy feeling of sadness and despair.

First on Jim's mind was getting out of his ruined clothes. _Damned dog…_ His thoughts were dark as he stripped, tossing the shirt in the trash. He wanted a shower but paused at the bathroom door, considering what he should do about protecting the newly bandaged wound. The irritating obstacle only darkened his mood.

He held his arm over his head as he showered, letting the warm water run over him and wash away the day's grime. But it didn't help his perplexity. Holding Catherine when she fell into his arms had unsettled him. It wasn't the first time he'd held a woman like that, nor was it the first time he'd ever been close to her like that but there was something different that time…

After finishing the shower, he wrapped in a towel and stood in front of the mirror trying to decide if he wanted to shave or not. A deep sigh escaped as he contemplated his appearance. "When'd you get so old," he asked his image. "You look like Dad." Then disparagingly asked, "And why are you talking to yourself?" After further deliberation, he grunted. "You're spending too much time alone."

Decisively, he pulled the towel off and dabbed a few remaining damp spots before tossing it in the hamper. Moving into his bedroom, he pulled a tee shirt out of his drawer and then opened another for a pair of flannel pants. He wasn't in the mood for anything more.

After a couple of hours of rambling around his house trying to find something to capture his attention so he wouldn't have to think, he gave up. A quick clothing change and he was headed out the door. As he drove down his street in his personal car, he was trying to decide where to go and turned left at the end of the road.

The fountains at the Bellagio were always a good place to go when he was restless. There was something calming about them and the people watching opportunities were endless. Not that anything people did surprised him anymore. But often families would show up with children and he enjoyed watching, even though on some deep level, it hurt. And then there were the young lovers; it was bittersweet for him but also filled him with hope to watch them. He saw so much of the darker side of humanity in his job; trips to the fountains reminded him of better things.

The sun was just beginning to set as he stood, watching the water shoot high into the sky. And then he heard laughter on his right and turned to see a family with teenagers nearby. The teen s were laughing and giggling as they watched in awe. The parents were equally awed but were enjoying watching their children's reactions. The sight brought a smile to Jim's face, as his mood lightened.

Off to his left was a couple. If his instincts were worth anything, the man was proposing. From the expression on the woman's face, it wasn't going to go well. He felt for the guy but Jim's sense of irony kicked in and he found an odd amusement in it. _Smuck…_

The sky was growing darker and the lights were coming on in the city… not that they all ever went out. But the lights changed the colors on the water, bringing a glow to the area. He continued his observations, both of the show put on by the water and by the people who gathered to watch.

The family with teens had moved away, revealing a woman who stood by herself. She was staring out into the fountains, even when the water quieted. And then she wiped her face; she was crying Jim realized. Studying her more closely, he wondered what could be upsetting her so much. But then, there could be so many reasons as he knew.

She was forty, maybe a few years older, light shoulder length hair, and curvy. While some men might Jim wouldn't call her overweight, but she definitely had a little extra in all the right places. From his distance, he couldn't tell much about her features but he thought she was probably attractive. _Wonder what…or who she is crying over?_

He hung around, alternating between watching the water and her. He hoped someone would show up, give her some comfort. As more time passed, it was apparent that wasn't going to happen. He watched as she seemed to collect herself, taking a few deep breaths and wiping away the last tears. But she didn't move from her spot. Instead, she continued to stare into the water, lost in thought. He was about to leave when he noticed a new wave of sobs wracking her. Jim paused and contemplated what, or if, he would do.

The crowd had thinned considerably, leaving the woman even more isolated. Jim shifted his weight from side to side several times as he considered his next move._ She's probably crying over a breakup…don't want in the middle of that…._

Suddenly she stood up and moved closer to the fountain. Something about the way she moved alarmed him. _Jeez, I hope she's not suicidal…not that it's likely here…_ That thought spurred him into action.

He approached her slowly, his training kicking in. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he said softly.

She turned to look at him, startled. "Yes, it is," she answered as her gaze turned back to the water.

Moving closer to her, his eyes never left her. "I come here when I need to relax…you know, when things get to be too much."

She glanced up at him and gave him a wane smile. "Yeah." Then she turned back to the water. A deep sigh later she said ruefully, "You must've seen my …breakdown."

Uncomfortable with the situation, Jim edged a little closer, his fingers twitching. "Yeah, well…we all have our moments, you know."

Stealing a look at him again, then her eyes scanning the area, she seemed to realize they were virtually alone. "I um….I'm sorry if …I mean, really, I'm okay. Surely you have…I mean, …" her voice trailed off in obvious embarrassment.

Jim tried to smile reassuringly. Then lifting his arm drawing her attention to it, he shrugged. "I had kind of a rough day and was climbing the walls at home. Thought coming here might cheer me up." Shifting his gaze over the water again, he continued. "I like watching the show…and the people."

She eyed his bandaged arm and then gave him a searching look. "Yeah, it is a good show."

And after some hesitation where he could see that she wanted to ask, he answered. "A dog bit me," he said with light hearted chagrin.

She swallowed, as if she was making a momentous decision. "I'm Julie Davis."

"Jim Brass," he responded quickly. "So, you're from here?"

"Yeah. I um…well, I'm sorry I disturbed you. I'm just putting on quite a pity party today."

"Oh, you didn't upset me…just, concerned…" He looked into chocolate colored eyes and saw appreciation reflected back. "But, you're okay?"

She smiled, self-conscious. "I am. It's just…well, my husband left me a year ago today."

Jim frowned. "So…an anniversary." He looked at her thoughtfully. "The guy's an idiot," he stated firmly.

She laughed. "You don't even know me. Maybe I made him leave? Maybe I'm hard to live with?"

Grinning, Jim studied her. "So, he's a gutless idiot." Then glancing over his shoulder, he made a decision. "Wanna go get a drink?"

Her eyes followed his gaze to the casino and then flashed back to him, sizing him up. "I'd like that," she said coming to her own conclusion.


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, the good news is that I will have more time to write. At least, I hope you think that is good news, lol. The bad news is the reason why; I lost my temper and consequently my job yesterday. What can I say, the boss wanted more than one person can do. It's been building for awhile and I knew it would come eventually, but still...

Enuff said about that.

My comuter keyboard is having difficulties. Some of the keys forget to work sometimes so I'm having to go back and proof read several times to catch the uh ohs. If I missed any, I apologize.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. This was one of the "additions" after The List. Just couldn't resist adding some of that other Brassness after that episode, lol.

* * *

Jim made a quick decision as they entered Bellagio. Considering their casual attire, he decided the Fontana Bar was the best bet; besides, it sat next to the lake and they could continue to watch the water, if they wanted.

The hostess flashed him a familiar smile and directed them to a table next to the rail. A waiter took their drink order and Jim ordered appetizers, remembering he hadn't eaten in hours. Wouldn't do to have his drink go to his head, not when he'd just met an attractive and apparently nice lady; besides, she might be a little hungry too, he reasoned.

They chatted over inane topics for a few minutes before her eyes turned back to the water and she sighed.

"Aw, come on…no more worrying about the gutless idiot," he teased, trying to get her thoughts away from what had brought her here.

Julie looked back at him and smiled. "No, I was just thinking about how this day started, with me feeling rotten all day long… and now I'm sitting here and it really is coming to a very nice close… much better ending than I expected."

Jim shot her an easy smile. "Well I'm glad, but the day isn't exactly over yet, you know." His eyebrow lifted slightly as he drove home his point. Her brows narrowed and Jim knew she was wondering what she had gotten herself into. In an effort to make her more comfortable he added, "It's early still…"

"It is," she conceded. "But I'm an early to bed kind of girl," she said and then began to blush as she realized the implication.

Jim decided to let it pass. As he was trying to think of a way to change the subject, the waiter showed up with their food and drinks. Once everything was served and he'd moved away, Jim turned his attention to the appetizer plate. "So, what's your choice? There was a variety of items

She selected a cheese cube and began to nibble as Jim perused the other items on the plate. A throat cleared behind him and drew his attention away. Looking up over his shoulder, he spotted Catherine standing a few feet away, looking at him with amused disapproval.

_Damn!_ Unsure of what he was feeling exactly, except awkward, he nodded acknowledgement in her direction.

"I thought you were resting at home," she chided lightly.

Jim shrugged. "I got bored," he answered non-committedly. "Thought I'd check out the fountains," he added.

"So I see," she answered as her eyes swept over Julie. "I'm Catherine Willows," she said as she introduced herself. "Jim and I work together."

_Oh shit, I'll never hear the end of this, _he thought. "Uh yeah, um….Catherine this is Julie Davis," he sputtered. _Now go away…. _Catherine watched his face closely, his vexation showing clearly in the tilt of his eyebrows and set of his mouth. Slowly, she turned her attention back to Julie.

The two women smiled at each other and then both looked expectantly at Jim. Considering his options, he decided he wasn't about to let Catherine linger. Too much information was a dangerous thing with her and besides, he didn't want Julie getting the wrong idea. She was a possibility; he wasn't sure for what but still… If Catherine stayed very long Jim was sure that Julie would disappear quickly. He was feeling caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. "Don't you have work to go do," he asked abruptly, not liking the unspoken language he was observing between the two women.

"Actually, I'm here on behalf of the Eclipse. Eric wanted to check on the chef here and one of the mixologists over at the Petrossian but he can't. You know…professional courtesy and all dictates that he shouldn't pinch them away… So he asked me. Ray came with me…he's around here somewhere…" She looked around as she spoke, obviously looking for Langston.

"Working for Daddy, even now," Jim said disagreeably. He wasn't sure why his mood had abruptly soured enough to take a dig, but suddenly he was feeling irritable.

His mood change wasn't lost on either woman. Julie looked down at some imaginary speck on the table while Catherine just glared at him. The quickly she turned and walked out.

Jim watched her saunter out with mixed feelings. Relief washed through him initially but then remorse set in. He wanted to follow, to apologize, but it might send the wrong signal, he thought. Besides he couldn't just leave Julie sitting there, could he?

With a sigh, he turned and looked at his companion, who was staring at him intently. "Sorry about that," he said sheepishly. "She and I…we used to be friends but…"

"Just friends?" Julie interrupted. "I don't think so. She was upset to see you here with me and…you were…uncomfortable about the whole thing. There's more between you than just being friends." She looked across the table at him accusingly.

Jim groaned. "Look, she and I have worked together for years. I'll confess that there was a time I wondered…you know thought about a relationship that went further; but that just isn't in the cards. And we had a disagreement last year and now I don't quite trust her. And without trust…well, there can't be anything serious anyway." He watched her, trying to give her his most earnest expression.

She frowned. Not a good sign in Jim's book. He just wanted the whole subject to go away. "Hey, let's concentrate on making this day have a good ending for you…you know, a happy ending?" His smile was impishly innocent. And it worked because after a slight hesitation, she giggled. Relaxing, Jim turned the conversation to other things.

Catherine stormed into the lobby, looking for Ray. The large Black man was not difficult to spot as he stood near the entrance to the Petrossian. She made her way across and he smiled as he turned to her. "You find the chef?" he asked.

"No," she answered bluntly as her head turned back toward the Fontana. Then, her hair flipping from the quick motion, she turned back to him. "Let's go. Suddenly I'm not in the mood for this."

A look of concern flashed across Ray's face but he nodded acceptance. "Okay, if you're sure."

"I'm sure," she said sharply as she turned to rush out of the casino. Ray had to move quickly to keep up.

Once she was home, she finally was able to let her tears fall. Jim had looked so…happy with that woman. What was her name? Julie. Catherine had walked in, looking for the chef and had spotted them immediately. She didn't know what they were talking about, but Jim was definitely interested. No stranger to men's looks, Catherine had recognized Jim's body language immediately. When he came to Vegas he'd been a player and even though he had slowed down, he'd never quite given up that lifestyle. But seeing him on the prowl, especially when he was supposed to be home, recovering…and especially after everything she'd been trying to tell him about her feelings…it hurt.

And then she got angry, truly angry. How dare he? He turned her down for someone like Julie? The woman was attractive enough, Catherine conceded to herself, but had a kind of house-frau feeling to her. At least from the little exposure Catherine had, that was her impression.

Then resignation settled in. Maybe that's what Jim really wanted. Maybe after so many years of being on his own, moving from one bed to another or not having anyone in his at all…maybe he wanted a home life. And maybe, just maybe, he was willing to settle for someone less exciting to get that. She had to concede that there were times when she was so starved for feeling like she mattered to someone that she was willing to settle. Hadn't that kind of what her thing with Lou had been about?

She tilted her head as these thoughts ran through her mind. But she hadn't been able to settle for Lou. Why not? He was a good man…solid enough and a looker to boot. And there had been chemistry. But it hadn't felt right.

The feeling of being in Jim's arms when that dog had pushed her into him felt right, even if it was brief. And it had affected Jim too; she knew it had. Her eyes narrowed…_yes, it did affect him…_and she began to consider her options.

Jim woke to the sound of someone breathing softly next to him and sighed. This wasn't what he had in mind when he'd met her…at least not so soon. Maybe not at all, he thought with an inner shrug. It had been her idea, not that he minded. He suspected that he was her first after her husband left. He didn't mind that either. She'd been…eager. But he hoped she didn't expect anything more from him. That was the touchy part of hooking up with a newly divorced woman. Some wanted to play and others were looking for a replacement. He had no intention of being a replacement. Still, it might last for a few weeks.

But deep down, there was a part of him that was tired of this, of waking up with a new flavor of the month or in recent years, every few months. But he'd been burned once and badly. He didn't want to repeat the experience. Hell, he was too old to go through _that _again. Still, he thought, it would be nice to actually feel involved with the one he woke up with… to feel like she belonged in his bed… to actually be working at a relationship instead of playing at one…to love and be loved. Not wanting to dwell on that thought for long, he got up and trudged across the room to the bathroom.

Standing at the sink, washing his hands, he looked into the mirror. A hint of smugness crept into his expression as he gazed at his reflection. "Not bad for an old guy," he told himself softly. And then a broad grin broke out over his features. "Not bad at all," he whispered as he remembered Julie's contented purrs last night.

Patting his face dry after splashing some water on it, he began to smirk, pleased with his prowess. "Haven't lost your touch," he told himself in the mirror before flipping off the light and opening the door. Feeling better about the situation, he slipped back into bed as quietly as he could, hoping that he didn't wake Julie. _She'll probably want to sleep in …after all, we went at it pretty hard last night, _he thought to himself smugly.

He was surprised when she rolled over, her hand going to his chest, her fingers gently combing through the hair there. "Mmmmm," she purred. "Good morning."

He covered her hand on his chest and squeezed. "Good morning," he replied. "You okay?"

"Um hummm," she moaned softly. "Better than I've been in a long time."

An alarm went off in the back of his head but he was too full of his own sense of accomplishment to pay attention. "I'm glad," he said softly.

She scooted closer and began to nibble on his shoulder and then his neck. And then her fingers broke loose and she began to run her hand over him. It was obvious where this was going and Jim didn't have any complaints at all. _Maybe this is enough, _he told himself. _After all, it has its advantages…_

Catherine woke that morning from another dream. And this time she knew exactly who it involved. Once she calmed down from the heated scenario playing in her mind, she renewed her resolve. Jim Brass wasn't going to get away, not without a fight anyway. She'd been alone for too long and he'd been alone for even longer. And she didn't believe for one minute that he preferred it that way. Maybe once, but not anymore. She hummed in the shower and smiled through her breakfast. After she'd finished, she called his cell and was disappointed when it went to voicemail. _Probably sleeping in…_

Jim heard his cell ring but he was in no position to answer; not that he wanted to at that moment. Frankly, he didn't care who was calling; in fact, at that precise moment, he didn't care about anything except finishing what Julie had started. And finish, he did.

Julie curled into him, contentedly. And he felt like a king…or a god…or someone equally lofty. She was twenty years younger than him and according to her, he was the best she'd ever had. Of course, she'd been married for fifteen years before her break-up, so she probably hadn't been with many men, but still….. At sixty, it stroked his ego to have her tell him that. _This could turn out to be pretty good…_he thought as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. _This could be very good._


	7. Chapter 7

I so appreciate the reviews from yanukjc and beaujolais! You guys keep me inspired and I always love comments from beaujolais cause they keep me on my toes. I'm so very glad the site fixed their latest round of problems. It was frustrating for a couple of days but hopefully things are smoother now.

I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I know there are many out there reading; the stats tell me so... I'll excuse you for not dropping a line in review because I've been guilty of the same lately...a lot. But I'll try to do better and hopefully everyone else will too. It is always nice to get feedback and know what you are doing well and where you need to improve. Well, at least I think so.

Since I added the extras after "The List" I'm having to go back and kind of rewrite some of it. But the outcome is already scripted and we're getting there. But I think "The List" brought out a facet of Brass that maybe we've overlooked in our fanfic writing and I wanted to play with it... and him, lol. Again, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Jim's phone rang that afternoon, just as he was waking up. After a cozy breakfast in bed, ordered from room service, Jim had walked Julie to her car and promised to call her later. Then he'd headed home and crashed almost immediately. The days where he could be out all night and then go home to a shower and shave and show up on the job with any semblance of alertness were past, he'd reflected as he'd drifted off to sleep.

Now, feeling refreshed, he was ready to tackle his day. He answered the phone with the expectation of being called in to work early. "Brass…"

"Hey Jim, where ya been?" Catherine's energetic voice bubbled from the other end.

"Asleep," he snipped, wanting to get a jump on her inquiries.

"Oh, well…I just wanted to see if you need a ride to get your rabies shot?"

"No…decided not to go there. The dog's had its shots and there's no sign of him being infected. Why go through all that?"

"Oh, okay. Guess that makes sense…if the dog's had its shots and all…"

"You sound disappointed," Jim snipped through the phone.

"No, just…well, I was concerned. How is the arm anyway?"

Glancing down at the bandaged limb, he shrugged. "Okay…tender," he realized.

"That's not surprising," she almost snickered into the phone.

"Yeah, the dog did get a good piece of it," he confirmed.

"Yeah…but I meant, well… last night… you probably did more than you should…"

Jim couldn't believe what she'd just said. What business was it of hers what he did last night? After a brief pause and glare at the phone, he put it back to his ear. "What I do is my business," he growled. And then he sighed. How had they gotten to this place? Catherine had been a very good friend, and now that friendship seemed to be lost. "Look, I appreciate your concern and checking on me, but I'm okay," he said in a gentler tone.

On the other end of the line, Catherine was nearly in tears. She'd heard the animosity in his voice and was relieved to hear him soften. Taking a deep breath, she decided how to proceed. "Okay. Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped…I just…."

From the other end, Jim listened to the long pause and wondered what she was thinking.

Then she picked it up. "Maybe we could meet for coffee somewhere? Talk? I know I started this and…."

Jim stopped her. "Catherine, I don't know what else can be said. I thought we covered all this. Maybe…look let's just…I dunno, give each other some space for a little while?"

"You don't want me around?"

He could hear the heartbreak in her voice. "I didn't say that… I just think this needs some time."

"Jim, it's been a year."

She had him on that point, he silently conceded. "You work tonight?"

"Yes," she said quietly, wondering where he was going with it.

"How about I buy you breakfast in the morning?" His tone was velvety, tender almost.

Instantly relieved, she replied. "I'd like that. I've…missed spending time with you."

The warmth in her voice washed through him, unsettling him again. "Me too. So, I'll swing by your office in the morning?" Inwardly, he wondered what the hell he was doing.

"Yeah, that… that's good." Her smile was apparent in the tone of her voice and Jim picked up on it., grimacing as he closed his phone. Hopefully, she didn't misinterpret his offer for breakfast.

That night's shift was unusually quiet, giving Catherine time to catch up on some paperwork and to think. She had to go slow, she reminded herself. After all, it wasn't Jim who'd been having the rather graphic and intense dreams. He needed time to get used to the idea that they were going to get together. But get together they would, if she had a say in it. She was a woman who was used to getting what she wanted, if not by the usual methods then by sheer willpower. And right now, it was Jim Brass that she wanted. But he could be stubborn, as she well knew. And the last thing she needed was him digging in and becoming entrenched. No, she'd have to lure him in. Problem was, Jim had an uncanny sense about such things and wouldn't be easily lured. Still, she could do it…with patience.

Jim appeared in her doorframe ten minutes after the end of shift. Like her, he'd probably had a few details to finish before he could leave. But there he stood, tie in his jacket pocket, shirt collar open, and an impish grin on his face.

And once again, she found herself wondering how she could have missed the opportunity he'd presented for so many years. It wasn't that he was handsome in the usual way, she reflected, but he did have beautiful eyes. And there was a charm about him, in an East coast hard living sort of way. And there was intelligence in his eyes; oh, not the Gil Grissom kind of bookish intelligence, but an innate one, honed by years on the streets scrutinizing people. Her kind of intelligence. And under that tough Jersey boy exterior was the heart of a lion…and a lamb. She knew how cruel he could be … and how tender. For all his outwardly simple everyday kind of guy appearance, inside Jim Brass was a very complex man. And looking at him as he stood in her doorway, all Catherine could do was smile; because sooner or later, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was going to be _her _man.

"Ready," he asked.

Reaching into her drawer, she grabbed her bag. Then rising from her chair, she smiled again. "Yeah, I'm famished," she said as she moved toward him.

Watching her come towards him and the changing expression on her face, Jim's gut jumped and rolled as briefly he wondered for what exactly was she hungry.

They decided on a small bakery a few blocks away that was known for its breakfast pastries and wasn't frequented by LVPD. Jim didn't want prying eyes watching in case they got into another heated discussion and Catherine didn't need those curious onlookers alerting Jim to her covert moves.

They chatted about neutral topics for awhile; Lily was fine, enjoying her role as hostess at the Eclipse. Lindsey called from college needing _more_ money and oh by the way, she wouldn't be home at the end of the month like she had said. He'd taken his Harley out for a ride and it needed some more work. And yeah, he'd take her for a ride on it when it got out of the shop.

"What possessed you to get that thing anyway," she asked with amused disdain.

Jim shrugged. "I dunno. I rode when I was back in Jersey and after that case a couple of years ago with the undercover cop…I guess it just peaked my interest again."

Catherine giggled, tossing her head and consequently hair back in a care free manner that harkened back to when Jim had first met her. And suddenly it was hard for him to breath. True, she was older and a little tamer, but there had always been a wildness about Catherine that had appealed to Jim; something that tugged at his own edginess. And at the moment, the tug was fierce. Fighting back his urge to do something about it, he simply smiled at her. "What, you don't see me as a hog ridin' cocky SOB?"

Catherine looked across at him, wearing his smirky, bad ass Jersey expression and laughed harder. "You mean like in the Wild Hogs?" Then becoming a little more serious, she responded. "Oh, I can see you on a bike…"

"If you say tricycle, I'm leaving," he grinned.

"No, no I was gonna say a Hog. And I've seen you all bad ass too….and cocky. But the SOB? That's a show you put on for the perps."

"So _you _say…but there's plenty of people, women especially, that would argue." And abruptly, no one was smiling anymore.

"Jim?" Catherine gazed across the table at the suddenly distant man.

"Huh?" he asked from his distant place. And then he seemed to come back to her, his steely eyes looking up and into her.

"You just…went someplace else." Watching him intently, she waited for a reply.

He looked away and frowned. "I guess I did," he said with a finality that told her not to pry. But she couldn't just leave it, not yet anyway. So, reaching for his hand that was on the table, she covered it and squeezed. "Well, in my book you're a good man, Jim… certainly not an SOB; even if we don't always agree on things."

His eyes fluttered and briefly she wondered why she'd never noticed his beautifully long eyelashes before. And then he pulled his hand away from hers to rub across the back of his head in a gesture she recognized. "Um yeah…thanks," he said uncomfortably.

The conversation changed to other topics, like if Grissom was ever going to come out of the jungle and how did Sara deal with all of that anyway. Catherine shared Ray's surprise at meeting Lady Heather, which received a groan from Jim. "Another one in her web," he said sarcastically.

"What is it with you two anyway?" she asked him.

Jim looked at her surprised. "What do you mean?"

"There's been animosity since the beginning." She stated.

Shrugging, Jim nodded. "Yeah, I suppose. I just don't get a woman wanting to live like that…putting herself in that position…being used like that."

"She made a lot of money at it." Catherine pointed out.

"Yeah, but…" And then taking a deep breath, he let it go. "Ah well, it doesn't really matter to me one way or the other. She can do whatever she wants to do. It just seems like a lot of bad stuff happens around her."

Catherine tilted her head, acknowledging his point. As she took another sip of her coffee, she noticed Jim eyeing her plate. "You gonna finish that croissant?" he asked eagerly. She felt a grin grow on her face. As she slid the plate across to him, she smirked. "You're never going to change are you….same Jim Brass, pinching from other people's plates."

Jim looked up at her meaningfully. "No, I suppose not," he replied. And Catherine wondered what exactly were they talking about.

He dropped her back at her car in the LVPD lot and waited while she unlocked her door and climbed in. Then he pulled away, turning smoothly onto the road and then squealing his tires as he sped away. Catherine watched his antics with amusement. _Round one, she told herself inwardly. Just keep that lure bobbing in the water. Sooner or later Jim Brass, you're going to get hooked._

Farther down the road, as he turned towards his house, Jim was thinking along the same lines. _Be careful pal, or she's going to sink her hooks in deeper…_

Before heading to bed, Jim remembered his promise to call Julie. Dialing her number, he wondered what he was doing. She was younger, still not even really middle age yet and he was…older. His middle aged crisis was in his review mirror. She had so much living left to do, so much to look forward to. And he had… what? Retirement?

He'd about convinced himself to hang up when she picked up the other end. "Jim?" she said excitedly. "I was hoping you'd call."

"Yeah…um, well you know…I said I would."

"Yeah, but I was afraid you were just saying that to…I don't know, just get rid of me…"

Jim sighed guiltily. "Actually, I was thinking…maybe dinner tonight? It'll have to be an early evening; I have to work later. But…"

"I'd love to," she answered enthusiastically. "But what kind of job do you have that you go to work so late?"

_Oh yeah_, he thought…_never told her about that_. "Ah well, how about I tell you about it over dinner? Right now, I need to get some sleep."

"Oh right, okay…So when should I be ready?"

They discussed times and attire. Jim felt a certain satisfaction at her reluctance to end the call, but he assured her he really did need to get to bed but he would see her later. And as he lay in his bed, letting consciousness slip away, he asked himself again, _what the hell are you doing?_


	8. Chapter 8

I think the site is broken again. No reviews or even hits since Wed. on any of my stuff. I don't always get a lot of hits but it's been ages since I got 0, lol. Anyway, many thanks to my faithful reviewer, yanukjc. I'd be crying a sea of tears if I'd gotten no reviews on the last chapie, even though I know it wasn't one of the more thrilling ones. Hopefully things will pick up a little;-)

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Julie had obviously put a lot of effort into looking nice for him. And Jim appreciated it, he really did. But for some reason that he couldn't quite grasp, it disconcerted him. Consequently, dinner was awkward and he was relieved when his phone rang. There had been a break in at a councilman's home and his wife found near death. The councilman had requested Jim for the case.

After a brief explanation, Jim excused himself and headed to PD. Julie had been surprised by his profession but not put off by it. Still, Jim didn't think it would really matter since he wouldn't be calling her again. She was looking for more than he was willing to put into it, he'd decided.

Johnson, the CSI Swing Supervisor, worked the case with him. It was pretty straight forward; the wife had walked in on a burglary. The burglar panicked and attacked her, nearly beating her to death. But the report from the hospital was good; she'd recover.

Jim drove over there after checking out the scene. Councilman John Tate met him in the waiting room. A quick glance into the room revealed that not only was the family there but half the politicos of Vegas, including the Sheriff. Jim talked briefly with Councilman Tate and then asked him to call when Mrs. Tate was coherent enough to answer questions.

Johnson called him about an hour later to tell him they had wrapped things up at the house. There were finger prints and a shoe print that looked like the best evidence. One of his CSIs had also collected tissue from Mrs. Tate's finger nails, so they might have some DNA to work with. Things were looking good for a quick solution.

Later that night, he was at the Lab, following up on evidence from a case a few days before. He swung by Nick's office to check in with the co-Supervisor. "Slow night, Nicky?"

Nick looked up from a file on his desk and grinned. "Yeah, it is…finally. Just catching up on paperwork. You?"

"Following up on the Hankins case from last week. Looks like the arrest is gonna stick."

"Hey, that's good news…I know you're glad to get that one off your plate."

"Yeah… it looked shaky for awhile. So anyway, talk to you later," Jim said with a shrug.

"Yeah…later," Nick said absently. Then before Jim turned to walk away, "Hey Jim…"

"Yeah," Jim said as he looked back at the CSI.

"You okay?" The younger man was worried. Something had been off about his friend for awhile.

Jim tilted his head, his left eyebrow lifting slightly. "Uh…yeah…Why?" Suspicion laced his voice.

"Just…I dunno, you seem…off lately." Nick responded with concern.

"I'm fine, Nicky," he replied categorically, his shoulders tightening.

"Okay then," Nick answered, holding his hand up to signal that he was done prying. Jim relaxed a little and then nodded and walked away.

Unnoticed by either man, Catherine stood around the corner and heard the whole conversation. And as she watched Jim walk away, she noted the tension in his body and the deep breath that he released a few feet down the hall.

Johnson showed up in Jim's office at the beginning of the next night's shift. "Got a hit on the finger prints," he told Jim. "They belong to Ryan Lester, a repeat offender with previous charges for everything from breaking and entering to felonious assault. Nothing stuck but a simple assault charge about seven years ago. The guy's slick as oil with everything just sliding off of him."

"We got an address?" Jim was already standing up and reaching for his jacket.

"Yeah. And it is pretty recent so maybe he's still there."

"Let's go get 'em then," Jim said with renewed energy.

Jim pulled up outside the house and heard the squad car stop behind him. Johnson parked on the opposite side of the street. One thing Jim was grateful for was that Johnson and his team were very good about letting the cops do their job and the CSIs sticking to the forensics. Since Grissom had left, the grave shift had gotten bolder about charging in like cops and it made Jim nervous.

He sent Ingersoll around to the back of the house and Watson walked with him to the front door. What they didn't know was that there was an adjoining door to the garage. Just as Jim knocked on the front, a man came flying out of the garage, running down the drive. Watson took off after him and Ingersoll ran from behind the house, catching up just as Watson got to Lester. The two men tackled the suspect, pushing him to the ground. Jim arrived just as Watson was putting the cuffs on. But Lester broke free and charged ahead, running into Jim. Staggered for an instant, Jim recovered and threw all of his weight back into Lester, holding him up until Ingersoll got a hand on him.

The three men struggled for a minute until Watson came up from behind and managed to get cuffs on Lester. Between the three cops, they were able to subdue the flailing Lester. Convinced that the two uniforms had him under control, Jim stepped back. "Ryan Lester, you're under arrest…"

Catherine was at PD finishing another case when they came in with Lester. She watched as the man continued to grapple with the two uniformed officers and then spotted Jim walking in behind them. Her eyes widened as she saw his disheveled state. His clothes were a mess and he generally looked rattled, very unusual for Jim. Knowing that he wouldn't appreciate her meddling in front of everyone, she slipped out and went to his office to wait for him.

When he didn't appear in what seemed a reasonable time to her, she went looking for him. An officer pointed to the locker room on her inquiry and she followed the lead. Slipping into the police locker room, she looked around for any sign of him. His locker was in the far back corner and he was turned toward it, pulling something from it. He'd already changed his slacks, she noticed. As he turned slightly, she realized he'd taken a shirt from the locker. Then pulling his old one off, he tossed it into his locker and started to put the new one on. He turned a little more, absorbed in the shirt and not noticing her standing at the corner of a bank of lockers.

She felt her eyes widen as she sucked in a deep breath at the sight of him. A small gold medal hung from a chain around his neck and settled into a tuft of hair that peeked over his undershirt. And the shirt covered a well muscled chest. She'd known all along that he had good muscle tone. The times she'd seen him in short sleeves and polos had revealed that. But she'd had no idea that his torso was so toned as well. She could feel a tightening in her mid section and a tingling further south as she gawked at him.

Suddenly sensing that he wasn't alone, Jim looked up and then across the room at her. "Catherine?"

"Uh…yeah…I um…" Her mouth was suddenly very dry and her brain couldn't seem to function.

"You looking for me?" He was smirking at her now. He knew exactly what was wrong with her, she realized.

"Uh, yeah," she said a she collected herself. "I saw you come in and it looked like there'd been a struggle. Just wanted to be sure you're okay."

His grin was downright cocky now. "Yeah, I'm fine. He knocked the wind out of me for a minute but…I'm okay."

She wanted to wipe that grin off his face. He knew exactly the effect he was having on her and instead of having the decency to ….to what, she wondered. Besides, it wasn't like she ever back away from flaunting it when she had the opportunity. So she kind of understood where he was coming from…but still, the man shouldn't be quite so cocky. Then smiling at him, she glanced at his shirt. "You going to put that on or just parade around half naked all night?"

Jim glanced down at the shirt in his hands. "Oh, uh…well, I dunno. You had your eyeful yet?"

Catherine flushed as she looked up and into his eyes. He was relishing this. And then she surprised herself by chuckling. "Put the shirt on Jim. You're full of yourself enough already; I wouldn't want to add to your conceit."

Jim slipped the shirt on and quickly buttoned it. Then he slipped the tails into his still unbuttoned trousers, made a quick adjustment, buttoned the pants and buckled his belt. When he was finished, he looked up at Catherine again. "Better?" He asked smugly.

She chuckled and then took a deep breath. "This is nice."

He looked at her askance. "What is?"

"We're…it's like…well, old times," she said suddenly sobering.

Jim blinked. And then recovering from a slight loss of composure, he nodded. "Except you never saw me half naked before," he teased. "At least, not to my knowledge," he added.

Catherine laughed at that. "Well, I'm glad you're okay," she said as she left.

Jim watched her leave wondering if that was really true. Her watching him like that, her reaction to him shirtless… he didn't feel okay. In fact, he was feeling kind of light headed. He just didn't know what to do about it.

Catherine headed back to the Lab and the safety of her office. She needed time to sit and calm down, get her act together. Her head was spinning. Jim had been easier with her, more relaxed than he'd been in ages. She'd been the one having a difficult time… _oh my god, _she thought_, what have I been missing all these years? _Her mind replayed the images of him in the locker room sans shirt and his trousers undone. _I want a piece of that, _she assured herself as she imagined her hands just inside his waistband helping those trousers slide down_, and sooner rather than later. I wonder how bristly his chest hair is…and how much was hiding under his undershirt. His arms and shoulders looked so powerful…_She blinked her eyes, trying to clear the images from her mind but the overall impression stayed with her. She knew it would be a long time before she could look at Jim Brass and not wonder what else he was hiding under his clothes. _But that's part of the fun, _she told herself with an inward smile. _And sooner or later, I'm going to find out._

Her new knowledge of Jim Brass only made her dreams more intense. The one she had the following day was so realistic that when she woke, she could have sworn she felt the hairs on his chest between her fingers. Once again, she was soaked from the heat of it and her body ached with desire. She was so anxious, so aroused, that her skin felt tingly and it wouldn't go away.

She looked at herself in the mirror as she got ready for work and wondered how she would make it through the night, especially if Jim worked a case with her. She wanted that to happen though, to spend time with him, to gorge herself on the eye candy he seemed to be for her these days.

It wasn't long before she got her wish. She'd been behind her desk about an hour, going over end of month reports when her phone rang. It was Jim. They had a homicide. Officers were already there and CSI was needed. Everyone else on the team was already out working other cases, so that left her. She told him she'd meet him there in a few minutes. He was at another scene, he told her; she'd probably get there before him but he shouldn't be far behind.

Hanging up the phone, she grabbed her jacket and headed out. It was another busy night in Vegas and there was plenty to do.

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I know you guys are reading, lol. So about dropping me a line and telling me what you think?


	9. Chapter 9

Many, many thanks for all the great reviews from the last chapie! My little heart's all a flutter. I hope you enjoy thisone, things are picking up now;-)

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Catherine moved through the house, her gun drawn, every sense she possessed alert. But she was still caught off guard when a man jumped around the corner and grabbed her arms, knocking her weapon out of her hands, sending it clattering to the floor. She opened her mouth to scream, but again he was too quick and his hand muffled her cries.

The call had come in only an hour ago. But it was a busy night in Vegas and PD was stretched thin. A squad car had been on the scene when she arrived, the officers had already cleared the house. David Phillips was due any minute, along with Jim Brass. And another call came through for the officers. After confirming that Brass was on his way, she'd released the uniformed officers to go to the next call.

And then there'd been a noise in the house, sounds of someone crying. She was trained, she reasoned. Someone could be hurt, dying. She'd be careful, she promised herself. So she'd entered without backup. And now, she was paying the price.

The man held her against him, his hand over her mouth and his other arm firmly wrapped around her. And then he began to snicker into her ear. "What a nice surprise," he said softly. She squirmed, trying to free herself but he only held on tighter. "We're gonna have fun," he whispered lecherously.

Releasing her mouth to wrap his hand in her hair, he yanked, pulling her head back. She yelped from the pain and the shock. "Shhh…" she heard in her ear. Wouldn't want to spoil the fun, would we?" His voice was low and dangerous.

Then pulling on her hair again, he tugged her around the corner into the bedroom and threw her to the bed. She sprung up immediately, only to have him slap her across the face hard, knocking her back down. She bounced back up, trying to get past him but he pushed her again, this time coming down on top of her, knocking the air out of her.

Clumsily, he began to fondle her breast, a lewd expression on his face. Again she squirmed only to be rewarded with an evil sounding laugh from him. She tried to get her knee up, to get positioned to knee him where it would do the most damage.

And then he grunted and fell to her side, unconscious. Adrenaline pumping through her, filled with rage over what had happened…what she had walked into, she sprung up and flew past the man standing by the bed, fury clearly etched in his face. She ran through the house and out the door, not stopping until she reached her car. And then she fell against it, sobbing.

Jim glared down at the perp, still on the bed. Then quickly, he pulled out his cuffs and roughly pulled the man up locking him to the bed frame. After calling for a unit and for paramedics, he was satisfied that he'd done all he could about the perp for the moment and he went in search of Catherine.

He found her against her car. Caught between anger and fear, he wanted to lash out at her, chide her for walking into the situation without back up. But relief that she was safe surged to the surface. Not thinking, he reached for her, his hands griping her shoulders.

She tried to shake him off, reacting out of fear rather than reason. But his own fear was driving him and he needed to hold her, to know she was okay. As a gut reaction, he tried to pull her to him but she struggled. "Catherine," he said firmly.

Her eyes widened and then suddenly, without warning, she pushed him into the side of the car and was on him, kissing him and grappling with him. It was as if she wanted to pull him closer and push him away at the same time. He tried to stop her hands as he responded to her kisses. They weren't gentle or loving with one another, but angry and violent, filled with overpowering emotions, fear and rage intermingling with relief and gratitude.

Somehow he managed to move, change positions with her, so that now her back was against the car and he was the one in control, if it could be called that. Adding fuel to the flames, all of his pent up emotions flooded to the forefront. All the frustration and avoidance, the trepidation and confusion combined into an explosive mix of need and desire. And he couldn't seem to stop himself, or even slow down, as he kissed her, touched her, and groped for a more intimate connection. He wanted her; there was no denying that truth any longer.

Her hands were behind his head, holding his face close, and her kisses non-relenting. Electricity charged between them, energizing them both. Every breath was hard fought for as they struggled with their emotions and their need for one another.

Sirens began to sound in the distance and like an alarm, the sound slowly brought Jim back to his senses. There were duties… tasks to complete, reports to be filed… and her reputation to be protected, along with his. So hesitantly, regretfully, he back away. She whimpered in frustration and disappointment but when he glanced up over the car at the approaching emergency vehicles, she understood and nodded.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice throaty and uneven as he tried to calm down.

She simply nodded that she was and looked at the ground, unable to look into his eyes for fear of losing what little control she had at the moment. "Okay then. I'll take care of these guys…and then we'll talk. Okay?" he said quietly.

Tears pooled in her eyes as she again nodded her acceptance. "Yeah, later," she said weakly.

Jim hated walking away from her. Her emotions were in turmoil, as were his. And he needed to be close to her, to know she was safe, and to…well, just be able to touch her. What had just happened, he wondered. Was it just a reaction to the circumstances? He shook his head in confusion as he approached Officer Mitchell with the details inside.

Catherine watched him walk away and suddenly felt very empty. She wrapped her arms around herself and began to shake. How could she have been so stupid? She knew better than to go in alone. And once he'd had time to think about it, how was Jim going to react? Would he see it as another lapse of trust? And what would he think, how would he react to …whatever that had been just a minute ago? One thing she knew as she watched him from a distance, he had saved her again. And once the relief passed, he was going to be furious with her for putting herself in danger like that. She'd never hear the end of it.

Her eyes widened as she realized that no one, not Eddie, not Sam, not even her mother, had ever been so fiercely protective of her before. Jim had broken with protocol, had not identified himself, or given the perp a chance to surrender. He'd not acted in self defense and although the situation had been precarious for her, her life hadn't been in immediate danger either. There were other ways, PD sanctioned methods for dealing with the situation. Instead, Jim had a gut reaction and whacked the guy on the back of the head, hard enough to knock him out. There was no way the guy was going to hurt her after that. Jim had made sure of it. He hadn't reacted as a member of law enforcement with years of experience and training. He'd reacted as …what? A friend? She narrowed her eyes as she contemplated that one, remembering years ago when she shot Sid Goggle. But Gil's life had been in immediate danger. The man was raising a shovel over his head to hit Gil with it. He'd already struck once and had Gil on the floor. And she'd been cool about it; not that she liked having to kill the guy. But she felt very little emotion when she emptied her bullets into Goggle.

Jim's reaction was different. Anger had driven him. If she hadn't seen it in his face in that brief glimpse before she ran from the room, she still would have recognized it in his response to her outside. He'd been furious and had acted with a vengeance. And she realized he'd been that way with her for years, never letting anyone who dared threaten her come out of it unscathed. Not while he was around… And the way he had responded to her kisses, her need for him… So, what kind of behavior was that? A lover's maybe? Would he ever admit it, even to himself if not to her? Catherine had a lot of thinking to do. But for now, she realized as she watched Conrad Ecklie drive up, she needed to collect her emotions. She had a lot of questions to answer first.

Nick arrived with Greg to take over the investigation of the crime scene. Now they had two crimes to consider and Catherine regretted that the two would probably spend the rest of their night going over it. Nick approached her as Greg sauntered over to where Jim was talking with Ecklie. "You okay?" Nick asked her, more than a little concern showing in his expression.

"Yeah," she replied, trying to sound unaffected. "Only thing that's hurt is my pride."

He peered at her closely from under his ball cap, a question in his eyes. "You sure now? 'Cause I can get a medic over here if you need to be looked at. You look a little shaken…"

"I am, a little," she confessed. "But I just need a few minutes…I'm fine, really."

"Okay then. Well, I'll get to work," he said tentatively. She nodded and tried to smile in an effort to reassure him. She could tell it didn't really work as he moved away looking worried.

Now that she was alone again, she let out a deep breath. And nervously, her eyes began searching for Jim. After a brief small panic, she located him at the corner of the house, standing with Ecklie as the paramedics wheeled the perp out of the house. Even in the darkness, Catherine could read Jim's facial expression and body language enough to know he wanted another go at the guy. He wore a dark and dangerous expression and his body was tense, poised for battle. She smirked as she watched Ecklie try to talk him down and then groaned as Jim seemed to shake their superior off and walk away. He walked around the corner of the house and disappeared from her view, leaving her feeling empty again.

Turning her attention back to the perp, she watched as he was loaded into the ambulance. From her vantage point, she could see that he was strapped onto the gurney and was cuffed to the rail. She could hear him yelling something unintelligible and saw the sneers on the medics faces.

Then Jim reappeared, holding his hands in front of him. He was trying to look non-chalant but something was wrong. Catherine frowned as she saw how awkwardly he was holding his left hand and tension griped her stomach as she watched Ecklie notice as well, his mouth falling open, agape.

The Under-Sheriff called one of the EMTs over and pointed at Jim's hand, agitated. The EMT grasped Jim's wrist and Catherine recognized the wince of pain from where she stood. Before she had time to think, she was running across the distance between them. "Jim…what did you do?" she called out as she got closer.

Jim looked up at her, winced again, and then rolled his eyes. But he remained mute. It was Ecklie who spoke first. "I think he broke his hand."

"Yeah, he did," confirmed the paramedic, as he inspected Jim's hand closely.

Catherine looked from Ecklie to the EMT to Jim's obviously smashed hand, and then to his face. He was watching her intently, looking angry and sheepish at the same time. Briefly it occurred to her that only Jim Brass could do that but then her attention went back to his hand. "Your hand was fine a few minutes ago," she said vaguely.

"I heard a noise around the side of the house," Ecklie said. "I think he punched the wall."

She looked at Jim in horror. He was grimacing now, obviously in pain, his weight shifting from foot to foot. But he was still watching her, his eyes dark under his furrowed brows. And as she looked into them, she knew what he had done…and why.

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Poor Jim. He's having a tough time. Should we give him a break? LOL


	10. Chapter 10

"You need to get that checked out," the EMT told Jim.

Jim looked away from Catherine long enough to give the paramedic a searing flash of antipathy. "You think?" he snipped.

Unaffected by Jim's scorn, the EMT shrugged. "You can ride with us," he offered.

Catherine watched as Jim contemplated that option. The suddenly contemplative expression on his face as he glanced towards the bus, the back doors open and the perp visible, alarmed her. "I'll drive him over," she quickly volunteered.

A confused Ecklie looked from the EMT to Catherine and then to Jim. Suddenly he understood why Catherine had jumped in. Jim in close proximity to the perp wasn't a good idea, he realized. "Yeah, I think that's good," he offered in support of her.

Jim was looking at Catherine again, his jaw clenched and resentment obvious in his glare. "Do I get a say in this," he asked contentiously.

Catherine was relieved when Ecklie jumped in. "No, you don't. Catherine will drive you to the hospital. I'll have Vartann follow up here and Vega can check on our suspect. Jim shot Ecklie a nasty glance and then huffing, walked towards Catherine's SUV.

Catherine nodded to Conrad Ecklie gratefully and then turned to follow Jim to her car. By the time she was settled behind the wheel, he was in the passenger seat and had managed to buckle himself in. Then with a moan, he fumbled with his left arm, trying to find a comfortable perch for his hand. Watching his grimaces, she reached to her backseat and pulled her coat over the seat. Rolling it into a ball, she reached over and lifted his arm. "Here, use this like a pillow…and keep it elevated for god's sake," she instructed.

With a grunt, he did as he was told. And as she turned the key in the ignition, she heard an irritated, "thanks," from him. It was the last sound she heard from Jim until they reached the hospital.

The ER doctor studied the x-rays and sighed. Turning to Jim, he looked perplexed. "Weren't you just here a week ago?" Not fazed by Jim's sneer, he continued, "you managed to mangle your hand thoroughly. I'm calling in an orthopedist to look at this; it's beyond anything I can mend."

Jim groaned. He'd been stupid, he knew. And now he was paying for it. "Yeah, okay," he growled.

Catherine had been standing outside of the cubicle and scooted in when the doctor left. "What'd he say? It's going to be okay, isn't it?"

Jim took a deep breath. She could see the muscles of his jaw working and knew he was still seething. "Sure," he said crossly.

Catherine was hurting for him. He looked so beleaguered. She knew he was angry with himself and with the perp. But how much of this anger was for her? And as she watched him, she realized he was a little bit embarrassed too. It had been a stupid thing to do, punching the wall of the house in anger, and he knew it. Judging by the looks of his hand, he'd punched it with everything he had too…it had to hurt like hell, she mused.

Somewhat fearful of what his reaction might be, she still felt the need to move closer, to try to offer some comfort. "Jim," she said softly as she took a couple of steps.

His right hand flew up, stopping her. "Don't!" There was no mistaking the warning in his voice. "Last thing I want is pity…"

She froze in place, gauging his distress. And then it suddenly occurred to her how to approach him. "Pity?" she exclaimed. "You go do something stupid like putting your fist through a wall and you think I'm feeling pity?" she asked incredulously. "That was one of the dumbest things you've ever done Jim Brass, and you've done some pretty stupid stuff."

Her words and attitude had the intended effect she realized as she watched something flicker in his eyes. "I had to do something," he declared. "That…that bastard almost…he…you….you could've been…. Jesus Christ Catherine, don't you realize what he…where it was going?" He clinched his jaw and glared at her. "What the hell were you thinking…going in on your own like that? Geez, you scared the shit out of me…"

"I know Jim….I'm sorry. I thought I heard crying and…."

"It doesn't matter. You had no backup!"

"I…you're right. I'm sorry. But I knew you were on your way and I heard crying and…."

"You knew I was on my way?" He looked like he was about to explode. "My god…"

"I trusted that you'd be there, Jim." There, she'd used the word. "I knew…"

"You didn't know when I'd get there. What if I'd gotten held up? What then, Catherine?" Suddenly the air seemed to go out of him as he looked at her imploringly. "What then?"

She braved another couple of steps and then reached for his jaw. Cupping her hand along it, she looked into his eyes with tears in her own. "But you did make it and…I'm safe."

"Never again, Catherine. You don't do that ever again."

"No," she smiled weakly. "Never again."

"And that…whatever it was outside…by your car? What was that?" He was calming down and for a brief second, she thought she saw a flicker of reprieve in his eyes.

"That was, I don't know…" she replied. "That was me being scared…and grateful."

He looked at her fixedly. "I don't want gratitude either," he said firmly.

"You wanted something," she threw back at him. "I didn't notice you backing away; in fact, you seemed pretty involved in that little scene outside."

Jim looked at her peevishly. "I let things get…out of hand."

She snickered sarcastically. "You seemed to have things pretty much _in hand_ as I recall." And then realizing this wasn't getting them anywhere, she changed her tactic. "And it felt pretty good too," she said with a coquettish smile.

Jim looked up at her out of the corner of his eyes and then smirked. "Yeah, it did," he replied suggestively.

Before she could respond, the door opened and Annette Jennings walked in. She smiled briefly at Catherine and then focused on Jim. "Really Jim, you could just call me if you want to see me again. You don't need to keep coming into the ER."

Jim grinned at her and relaxed. "I lost your number," he said woefully.

"Well, I can fix that," she assured him. "But first, we need to get you fixed up. Dr. Ericson has been called; he's the best orthopedist in the area. He should be here in a little while. Meantime, I'm to give you a shot… a painkiller. Thing is, it needs to go in the wrist so we can take care of the pain without knocking you out." Her voice was sickening in Catherine's book, sickly sweet.

"Okay. But they gave me something when I first got here." Jim was watching her, his eyes twinkling.

"Yeah. But it was a general and won't last long. This will pretty much deaden the hand so you won't feel it when Dr. Ericson works on your hand. Otherwise, it could be pretty painful."

"I'll just wait outside," Catherine said when she saw the opportunity to butt in. She was out the door before Jim had a chance to respond. Watching Nurse Annette fuss over Jim was too much for her. If she and Jim were a couple, she would have stepped in, claimed her territory. But as things stood, she had no right. And it was killing her to witness another woman all over him like that…and him responding to it.

Jim watched her walk out of the room and sighed. His teasing with Annette was just that. He had no intention of calling her. But he knew Catherine had been hurt by it.

His attention was drawn to his wrist as Annette prepared for the shot. Every time she handled his wrist or even moved his arm, it made his hand hurt. It was better since they'd given him something when he arrived, but it still hurt. When she helped him out of his shirt, he was in agony as she worked the sleeve down over his arm and hand. A grimace coated his face as she pulled out the needle and shot the drug into his wrist. It wasn't as bad as he'd anticipated, but it hurt too. Once she'd finished, she adjusted his hand on a pillow in his lap and gave him a sympathetic look. "Anything I can get you?"

Jim started to say no but then changed his mind. "Yeah, could you get Catherine for me? She's probably out in the hall…or maybe in the waiting room." He hoped she hadn't left.

He sat alone in his little cubicle of a room, waiting and thinking. Relief swept through him when the door opened and Catherine walked in. "Nurse Bootycall said you wanted to see me."

He was so wrapped up in his worry over her that he missed her sarcasm about Annette. "Yeah, I um… when you left, I thought…"

"I was just outside," she said. "I wouldn't leave without telling you, Jim. You _can_ trust me." She looked hurt.

"Catherine…look, I…" The door opened and Annette walked in with a man behind her.

"Jim, this is Dr. Ericson," Annette announced.

Annoyance bubbled up in Jim as he saw an opportunity slipping away. And then his eyes were drawn to Catherine as she moved towards the door. "No, stay," he called out to her. She turned, looking surprised. "Please," he said, trying to sound reassuring.

She nodded, glancing warily at the doctor and Annette. Encouraged, Jim held out his right hand, beckoning her closer. She slid between the health professionals and sided up to Jim on his right side. He smiled at her briefly before turning his attention to the doctor.

"Well Mr. Brass, you have a boxer's fracture," Dr, Ericson began. "It looks like the point of impact was along the MCP joints; metacarpal bones 1 through 4 are broken. You've also apparently jammed the base of two and three, next to the carpus…or your wrist. And to make things even more interesting, you've snapped the second proximal phalanx and have a hairline fracture in the third one. There is some misalignment of the second and third metacarpal bones but I think I can manipulate them into place without surgery. The scraps on your hand appear to be just that, so I don't anticipate any problems there."

Jim digested all the information, trying to understand what it all meant for him and his hand. "So, no surgery?"

"I don't believe so," the doctor replied.

"So, what? A cast?"

Dr. Ericson smiled briefly. "Well, after some magic on my part, which by the way you'll be glad you had the hand numbed for, we'll put a splint on you. It won't be as heavy or confining as a cast, but it should keep your hand stabilized. After the swelling has time to go down, we'll reevaluate and I'll put either another splint or a short cast on you."

Jim nodded. "Okay. But the hand will be okay…eventually?"

With a warm smile, Ericson replied. "I'm not going to gloss this over. Your bones aren't going to heal as easily as if you were twenty or even forty. That hand is going to need some TLC for awhile and probably some therapy once the splint comes off. But yeah, eventually it'll be okay."

Jim breathed out a relieved sigh. "Thanks, Doc."

"You can thank me by not doing this to your hand again."

"Oh, no problem there," Jim answered. "I've learned my lesson."

Ericson looked at him quizzically. "I'd think you would have known better to begin with. I mean, in your line of work, you've probably had to use your fists before…."

"Yeah, well… I um…."

"Jim forgot his own strength," Catherine chimed in with a pat on his right shoulder and a smile.

The doctor's work was indeed magic as he used his own fingers to prod Jim's broken bones back into alignment. After a quick x-ray, he was satisfied that things were as they should be and with Annette's help, wrapped a splint that started almost at his fingertips and ended on his forearm, just below the elbow. Then Annette fitted a sling over the arm to support his hand.

"You have anybody at home to help you with things tonight?" the doctor asked.

"Uh…"

"I'll stay with him," Catherine volunteered.

"Good," the doctor nodded approvingly. "I'm writing a prescription for painkillers for tonight and tomorrow. After that an OTC should be all you need. Keep that hand elevated and ice as much as you can stand it, although you need to give it breaks so you don't damage tissue by freezing it. I want to see you in my office in a week."

Jim nodded and accepted the script when the doctor had finished writing. "And no more fighting with walls," Ericson instructed before leaving the room.

Jim sat, staring at the prescription in his right hand, once again wondering how he could have been so stupid.

Catherine watched him and sensed his mood. Deciding that he needed a distraction, she leaned over a little to look into his face. "You want to stay at your place or come to mine?"

He looked up, startled. "Huh? Oh…uh…I'll be okay. You can just drop me off at my place."

"Oh no you don't," she chided. "I said I'd stay with you. Besides, I intend to rub it in by smothering you with TLC," she finished with a chuckle.

Realizing he was fighting a losing battle, he answered. "Mind if we go to my place?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she grinned. "So, let's see what we need to do to break you out of here…"

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I hope you are still enjoying! As always, reviews are nice;)


	11. Chapter 11

Jim collapsed into his favorite chair as soon as they walked through the door. It had been a long day, a painful one, and he was tired. As Catherine watched him, she realized even more what a toll it all had taken on him. "You need anything…food, something to drink?" She asked as she helped him settle his hand on a pillow, keeping it elevated.

Shooting her a look of resignation, he replied. "Yeah, um…I think there's some bottled water in the fridge. I don't think I can handle food right now though."

Catherine frowned. "Your stomach's upset?"

"Yeah, a little. I think it's all the meds…" _and the emotions_. He watched as she crossed to the kitchen and came back with two bottles of water. She opened one and put it in his right hand before opening one for herself.

"Thanks," he said quietly before taking a sip.

Settling on the couch, Catherine eyed him appraisingly. He looked beat. "You wanna lie down?"

Jim groaned. "Not yet. Need to unwind some first, I think. But really, I'll be okay. You don't need to stay."

Catherine smirked at him, trying to raise the gloom in his demeanor. "What? And miss getting you in bed? No way." When he didn't react, it worried her. They sat quietly for a few minutes before she spoke again.

"Look Jim, I don't want to make you uncomfortable. It's just, with all the painkillers you're on and how lousy you must be feeling, you know…hurting and all, I just don't want you to be all alone. I know you can handle it; you've handled a lot since I've known you. But, you shouldn't have to do it by yourself."

Jim grunted. He'd certainly blown his opportunity at having someone to go through bad times with him, but that was years ago. Since then, he'd learned to deal on his own. And he'd closed that part of himself away from the rest of the world, the part that knew how to share. He wasn't sure how to even begin to approach opening up to another person anymore. Oh, he'd skirted it with Gil when he'd given the man his medical power of attorney. And a couple of times, he'd expressed some of his frustrations with the job to his friend. But that had been relatively safe. Gil wasn't likely to ask too many questions, delve too deeply, and so he'd managed to keep certain doors shut. He'd skirted it a couple of times with Catherine too, but the risk had been greater and it had been before he'd lost trust in her. No, keeping that part of himself closed was safer. Sometimes things were annoying, confusing, even hurtful but holding it in, keeping it to himself, not letting anyone else in was his way of handling it. Opening up, that was risky business and the potential for hurt was endless. He'd been down that road and he didn't want to go there again.

Catherine watched as he became contemplative, morose almost. She wished she could get into that head of his, wipe out whatever he was thinking. It was obvious his mind was not in a good place. Gently she reached across, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Let me be your friend, Jim. I know there's all this stuff swirling around between us right now, but for tonight just let me be your friend."

He looked up into her blue eyes and saw the depth of her concern there. She really did care and she was worried about him. Somewhere deep inside, it stirred something. His gut tightened as he suddenly realized he didn't want her to be his friend tonight; he did but he wanted more, so much more. "Will you sleep with me?" he asked unexpectedly, surprising himself even.

Catherine looked stunned. She opened her mouth, trying to find a response, the right response. But he didn't give her a chance. "I don't mean…" he started in a panic, "I just meant, you know, sleep. Nothing else. I just…"

Catherine smiled comfortably. "Come on, let's get you changed and find me something comfortable. I'm tired so I know you're exhausted." Jim looked at her gratefully and nodded in agreement.

He dug a tee shirt out of a drawer for her and then fumbled in another one, producing a pair of mesh shorts. He shrugged bashfully as he handed them to her. They'll probably swallow you," he said apologetically.

She smiled a she took them. "It'll be fine," she said softly. "You need any help?" She glanced at his chest of drawers wondering what he might decide to wear to bed.

He shrugged, his eyes following her glance to the furniture. "I think I'll just keep my undershirt on…and maybe some pajama pants." Catherine shot him an amused smile. "What?" He asked with mock irritation.

"I just don't see you as a pajamas kind of guy," she teased.

Shrugging again, he grinned. "Well, usually I'm not, but in the winter sometimes… if it gets cold enough. Back in Jersey, it was kind of SOP."

She looked at him calculatingly. "Jersey in winter, huh? I still don't see it." His ears tinted red slightly as she looked at him, appraising. "No, I just don't see it," she concluded.

Self conscious, he changed the topic. "Bathroom's through there," he said as he pointed towards a door on the opposite side of the room. "I'll just, um…change in the other room… give you your privacy." He reached in a drawer and pulled out a pair of cotton pajama pants and headed out before Catherine had a chance to respond.

Catherine chuckled as she watched him disappear. She definitely had him thinking in the right direction.

They had settled in his bed with her on his right. She didn't want to accidently bump his hand in the night. She'd helped him position it on a pillow that rested on his chest as he stretched out on his back.

Once the lights were out and he was settled, she began to make herself comfortable. One thing was certain, the shorts had to go. Jim had been right, they swallowed her and none of her efforts to keep them up were entirely successful. Now that she had covers to protect her privacy, she slipped her hand under and tugged at the offending garment, sliding it off quickly. She pulled them out and dropped the shorts on the floor next to the bed where she could retrieve them in the morning.

Satisfied that she was comfortable now, at least as comfortable as she could be sleeping next to a man she'd been dreaming erotically about for weeks. And hopes or fears she might have been feeling were quickly doused however, as she heard a gentle snore from the body next to her. She rolled onto her side, chuckling inwardly at the situation.

Jim woke a couple of hours later, his hand throbbing. After rearranging himself, switching to his right side with his arm and hand resting on a pillow, he tried to go back to sleep. But on his side, Catherine just inches away and his mind refused to let him relax.

Her breaths were regular and gentle. She was resting peacefully. She'd pushed the sheet down and the shirt was twisted and had pulled up and away from her body a little. But in the moonlit room, Jim couldn't really make out much else, so his mind filled in the rest. And his body responded.

Part of him reveled in the feeling, lying next to and being turned on by a woman he'd dreamed about for years and then never let himself follow the dreams. And part of him was afraid. He fought back his emotions and forced himself to ignore the draw he felt towards her. Closing his eyes, he tried to think of other things.

_He sat at the kitchen table, this morning like every other morning. Breakfast had been oatmeal and toast and he was just finishing his juice. She was clearing the dishes left by the others and smiled at him, her expression telling him he need to hurry or he'd be late._

_There was a shuffle behind her and as he set his glass down, he looked up to see the source. Dad walked into the room and edged up behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist. Mom set the dishes back down on the table and lifted her arms as Dad turned her to face him. Both were smiling broadly._

_Dad bent and their lips met. It wasn't the usual peck on the lips that they were all used to seeing whenever Dad was around. This was more involved, sensual, and very mutual. When their lips parted, Mom looked at Dad and was glowing. Dad smiled, his eyes twinkling, and he was wearing a smirk. Sensing they had an audience, Dad turned to him. "What you gawking for, Jimmy? You've seen us kiss before."_

_He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. Then, springing from his chair, he sped to his room, gathered his stuff for school and headed out. But as he rode in the car, his older brother driving, he thought about his parents in the kitchen that morning. He wanted that one day. He wanted a wife that would glow at him and he'd smirk back, because they'd have a secret like his parents did. Because when a guy's that happy, when he's got that kind of secret, all a guy can do is smirk._

He sighed sleepily. He thought that's what he'd had that with Nancy; at least, at first. But the illusion didn't last long. He tried to hang in there even after he realized he'd never have that dream. Because that's what a real man did, wasn't it? Hang in there even when things are tough? A few years of that can kill a guy, though. And it'd almost killed him; his insides eating him up, him turning to booze and other distractions to just get by. Until one day, he looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the guy looking back.

Closing his eyes, as if to block all that out, he clinched his jaw tightly. It still hurt; after all these years, his failed marriage, the reasons for the failure, the disaster that followed, it still tore him up inside. He'd moved to Vegas to start over, try to reclaim something of who he had been, the man he'd wanted to be. But he'd shut the door on that dream from childhood, the one inspired by his parents. They had the secret but it was one he never could seem to grasp. And he wasn't going to get hurt again trying. So he'd become a player, moving from one brief relationship to another at first and then as the years passed, the relationships got farther and farther between. Because honestly, that life wasn't really what he wanted.

But a guy needed companionship from time to time and there'd been those dark moments, when he'd needed to feel like someone cared. There were plenty of women in a place like Vegas that were willing to play the game, most of them hiding just like he was. It was easier that way, less complicated… being a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy. And it didn't hurt, not like it had with Nancy….still hurt.

As he opened his eyes again and watched the sleeping form next to him, emotions ran through him, like lava overflowing its volcano, scaring him and thrilling him at the same time. She could hurt him, had already. But with her, he might smirk because he was that happy, because like his dad he had that secret too. Silently he asked himself if he had what it took to step up to the plate, face that kind of challenge, and risk being hurt again.

As if she sensed his inner turmoil, Catherine woke. Realizing that he was awake, she rolled on her side to face him. "You okay?" she asked groggily.

Jim considered his answer. "I don't know," he finally replied. He could feel her confusion and almost could see her furrowed brow even in the darkened room. "I've been thinking…"

Her hand searched for and found his face and her fingers gently stroked his cheek. "Sometimes thinking is a good thing," she said softly. "But sometimes, you can think too much."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "I um…" he hesitated, not sure of how to proceed.

"You what? What is it you want to say, Jim?"

Fear coursed through his veins, unlike any he'd ever felt. But courage raced through him as well. And he'd made up his mind. "You um…you said …" He could feel her anticipation and her patience. He was glad, he knew he needed her patience. "Before… you said you had dreams," he swallowed, fear gripping his gut, "about me…"

Her hand stilled on his cheek and he heard her breath catch. "I did…do," she said calmly, excitement barely restrained in her voice.

"I um…used to have this dream. My parents…" suddenly his mouth was dry, "they had this thing between them. Something special, really special…rare. It was like they had this secret between them…"

"I've met a few couples like that," she commented. "It's like they have their own little world that the rest of us can't see, can't touch."

"Yeah, like that," he agreed. "I wanted that…you know, a marriage like that."

"But it didn't turn out that way…" she added sympathetically.

"No, no it didn't," he answered sourly. "And it…I mean, I didn't…well, it just hurt too much…"

"Yeah," Catherine said perceptively. "Eddie didn't turn out to be my knight in shining armor either. All we had, ever had really….besides Lindsey of course …was the sex. And after awhile, it just wasn't enough."

Jim was quiet, gathering more courage and trying to organize what exactly it was he wanted to say. "So, what is it you're trying to tell me, Jim?" Catherine asked.

He took a deep breath and then took the plunge. "It's just that…you being here, looking out for me and…sleeping next to me like this. It…I remembered that dream; I want that dream again…with you." Tension filled him as he waited for her to react, to laugh or get angry or whatever other disheartening response she might have.

Catherine stayed very still, stunned by his confession. Her mind whirled and her heart jumped joyfully. "You want…you think…we could…that you and I…"

He heard the excitement, felt her surprise, and suddenly he was more confident. "Yeah, I mean…I'd like to, you know…give it a try?"

She wanted to jump into his arms and almost did but remembered his hand. So she settled for her fingers stroking his cheek again. Jim relaxed into the caresses and hoped it meant what he wanted it to mean. "Me too," she finally said shyly.


	12. Chapter 12

So sorry I took so long to post. Had a call from relatives in Alabama that they had been displaced by the tornados so we went to help. Got back home just in time to hear from our family in Memphis that the water getting close. They got lucky though since the water filled their yard but did not get into the house. Now, we're keeping our fingers crossed for other family in Louisiana, near New Orleans. If you're the praying kind, please keep all of these latest weather victims in your prayers. The destruction has been tremendous and the scenes we saw as we traveled through Alabama were heartbreaking. And it has turned so many people's lives upside down.

* * *

Because of his broken hand, Jim had the day off. But Catherine didn't. So after trying to sleep through the rest of the night, she woke to the bright light coming in through the window and decided she should get home, take care of some things there, and get some serious sleep. Jim had tossed all night and consequently, she hadn't really gotten much rest. Trying to be careful not to disturb him, she reached down to the floor to retrieve the shorts.

Again, trying to not disturb Jim, she fumbled under the sheet, trying to get them back on. Finally successful, she swung her legs over the side and stood to go to the bathroom. The shorts slid down her legs and gathered at her feet. Dismayed, her eyes wide, she looked down. Then she heard a chuckle from behind. "Told you they'd swallow you," he said. She turned and grinned at him.

There was a glint in his eye as he looked at her admiringly. She'd seen him ogling women before; Jim Brass was definitely a red-blooded male and never missed the opportunity to appreciate a beautiful woman. She chuckled as she saw the expression on his face now. "You can out your eyes back in your head," she teased.

"Hey," he said as he looked up at her innocently. "Can't blame me for looking…" She bent, picked up the shorts, and then tossed them at him, covering his face. As she walked into the bathroom, she heard him call out, "hey, I'm injured here…."

Catherine prepared breakfast and then headed home. Jim watched as she pulled out of his drive, happiness and loneliness co mingling in his thoughts. She had worried about leaving him alone but he'd assured her that he would be alright. She'd smiled at him, a glimmer of something showing in her eyes, a hint that she thought he was alright in ways that had nothing to do with him managing through the day.

Catherine headed home to a shower and then some serious sleep time. She'd dozed on and off through the night but between Jim's constant adjustments to accommodate his hand and his startling revelation she hadn't really been able to get a good rest.

Finishing her shower she took a quick peek at her e-mails, hoping for one from Lindsey. A freshman in college, her daughter had jumped into the scene, immersing herself in the theater program and making several friends in the process. Lindsey had always been interested in the performing arts, dancing and singing from a very early age and then later getting interested in theater. As a "triple threat" with years of training, she'd had her choice of several schools but had chosen the Chicago College of Performing Arts. As a student, she would have many opportunities to intern and work in the local theaters and music events. She would be working with some of the best professional and amateur performers in the country. And the selling point for Catherine was that it wasn't L.A. or New York. While still a large city, there wouldn't be the same pressures and expectations for a budding performer. The down side, in Catherine's view, was that the kid never got home … at least not enough to satisfy her mother.

Catherine smiled as she read her daughter's latest whine about the cool weather. The transition from the desert climate of Vegas to the much colder climate along the Great Lakes had been difficult. And just as Lindsey was rejoicing that warmer weather had finally arrived, they got hit with a spring snow storm. But other than the weather, things seemed to be going nicely for the girl.

Satisfied that her daughter was safe and happy, Catherine shut down her computer and headed for bed. Once she was curled up under the sheets, her thoughts turned back to Jim. She'd thought all along that she would get him to come around to her way of thinking. However, his timing and the disclosure about his long ago dream for marriage had surprised her, and truth be told, intimidated her a little. But it would be nice to have that kind of relationship, she reflected.

And then she began to think about the events the day before…of their kisses, more than kisses outside the house with him pinning her against her car. And then his emotions had over flowed to the point he'd broken his hand. She frowned as she replayed the scene in her head. It was so unlike Jim; he was usually the one with the cool head. She could count the times on her hand that she'd seen him lose control over the years and in recent years, hardly at all. Oh, he made a good show from time to time of being angry and losing it, but it was always contained. Yesterday had been…volatile. It disturbed her that he had reacted that way; more than disturbed, it worried her. From what he'd told her and what she'd witnessed over the years, he'd built a protective wall and closed himself off from the possibility of "happily ever after" and now…now, he was vulnerable. The consequences of him getting hurt would be bad, really bad… not only for him, but for her. She had no doubt that he was capable of making her miserable if … No, don't think that, she told herself.

She sighed heavily. Jim was capable of so much love, her instincts told her. She'd seen it time and again; when he cared, he cared deeply. And he wasn't ashamed of his emotions. He didn't broadcast them, kept them to himself for the most part actually, because that was his way. But their discussions about their daughters over the years, their broken marriages, and some of the tougher cases… he'd opened up enough for her to see how emotional he could be. And he hadn't been apologetic for it either. So she knew, if he committed to her, it would be complete, total commitment; no half assed crap. He'd be all in. Was she ready for that?

She thought of Lou. There had been an attraction and they'd been together for quite awhile. And for awhile it felt right. But then… what happened, she wondered. Thinking back, she realized it built slowly, over several months of him becoming more and more possessive and…confining. He'd been upset whenever something new was disclosed about her private life… Sam's money and her interest in the Eclipse was a biggie, but there were other smaller things, things she considered her business. And when they clashed over cases, he took it personally. But so did Jim, well…at least that once.

She reflected on that, her going over his head to get what she wanted and had to admit to herself once again that he'd had a right to be upset. She would have been if that had been done to her. Never again, she told herself. She'd have his back no matter what.

Jim dozed off and on through the day in his recliner. It seemed to be the only place that he could support his arm comfortably. He'd taped some NHL play-off games and they played on the TV but he spent too much time dozing to follow them closely. And when he was awake, his mind was on Catherine.

"Have to go slow," he told himself. This wasn't going to be one of his flash bang relationships that ended before it ever really got started, he reasoned. Besides, they still had some trust issues to work on. He wanted this, he had finally accepted that. But for it to work they were going to have to build some trust; he'd meant what he said, he couldn't be with someone he didn't trust. Nancy had pretty well made that a deal breaker for him. As he continued to think about a relationship with Catherine, as his mind continued to conjure pictures f the possibilities, he became more comfortable with the idea of it. Maybe it could work, he thought; maybe he would handle things better this time. And as his head leaned back against the chair and he drifted into sleep, he smirked.

The sound of knocking at his door roused him from his latest nap. He opened it to find Catherine standing there, carry out bag in hand, a smile on her face, and as usual looking beautiful. "You cooked for me?" he quipped.

Brushing past him and heading for his kitchen, she chuckled. "Yeah, right… but you do need to eat. I stopped by Squeegies and got you a plate." He heard rustling and the sound of plates clattering and followed her to the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, he watched her parcel out the servings and realized she intended to eat with him. After being alone all day, he was glad to have some company, especially her company.

"So, what are we having?" he asked as he peered into the bag.

"Good stuff. I decided you needed to eat right while you are healing. So, meatloaf with broccoli and carrots. Also, a spinach salad. Lots of protein and calcium. Plus, I picked up a carton of milk. You need to drink it."

Jim grinned. "Yes mother," he teased. She glared across the room at him but her eyes revealed her amusement. He shrugged impishly. "Nobody's told me to drink my milk in years," he said submissively.

"Well, get used to it," she winked coquettishly.

"Yes ma'm," he fired back.

"Sit," she instructed as she carried the prepared plates to the table. He had to admit that the spread looked pretty good. He hadn't really eaten much in the last twenty four hours and he suddenly realized he was hungry. She poured his glass of milk and set it in front of him and chuckled at his scowl. "Drink that and I'll see if I can find anything stronger," she told him.

He took a sip and realized it was pretty fresh. He actually drank milk all the time but just happened to have finished his last jug a couple of days ago and hadn't restocked. But he decided to keep that little secret to himself for awhile. He was enjoying this little game they were playing.

After they ate, Jim sat at the table and watched as Catherine cleaned up. "Okay, well then…I guess that's it," she said as she finished drying the last dish.

"You gotta work tonight?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "You need anything before I leave?"

"No, I'm okay," Jim said lightly.

"When do you go back to work," she asked.

"Tomorrow night…desk duty only though, at first."

Catherine looked at him, smirking. "Yeah, right… how long's that going to last?"

Jim shrugged, his blue eyes dancing. "We'll see…" Stepping close to her, he glanced down. Then clearing his throat, he looked back at her. "If we're um…gonna give this a shot, then maybe…"

His eyes were imploring and she immediately knew what he was after. Leaning in, she touched her lips to his. His response was immediate, his kiss light at first and then escalating, his hand wrapping behind her and pulling her close until she bumped his broken hand. "Umph," he grunted as pain shot through the hand and up his arm. Instinctively he backed away, a grimace on his face.

"Sorry," she yelped as she realized what had happened.

He blinked and then with another grimace, he looked up at her. "It'll be okay…" Then his expression changed. "You wanna kiss it and make it better?"

Responding to the mischief in his eyes, she winked. "Sure. And once it's safe, I'll do more than just kiss it. But right now, I'd better get going…"

Carefully, he leaned towards her. Their lips connected in a quick kiss and then she backed away. "I'll call you later?"

"Yeah, that'd be good," he smiled warmly. "You um…be careful, okay?"

"You bet," she said. And then she left.


	13. Chapter 13

Jim was glad to be getting back at work. Sitting at home for two days "resting" was not his idea of taking a break; once his system got over the initial shock of the events the night he broke his hand, he had grown more and more restless by the hour. Besides, it gave him too much time to think. No, he needed to be doing something, have something to focus on that wasn't Catherine Willows and all the accompanying confusion. So he smiled as he walked into PD; that is until Sandra, the receptionist, stopped him and told him the Under-Sheriff wanted to see him. "Great," he muttered to himself as he turned the corner to Ecklie's office. "Just what I need…"

Expecting to get reamed again, Jim entered Ecklie's office cautiously. Conrad looked up from his desk and motioned Jim to sit. _Oh shit…_

Jim settled as comfortably as he could in the chair and waited. One of Ecklie's games was to make his victims wait. Jim was used to it and wasn't surprised when he found himself in the middle of his superior's game again. What did surprise him was when the man looked up and almost smiled; not the weasely "I've got your ass" smile that was so common with him, but a genuine although somewhat nervous one. "Jim, I'm glad you're back," the man began and Jim wondered what the hell he'd just stepped into now.

"After witnessing …what I witnessed the other day at the crime scene, your reaction to Catherine's …situation, I'm convinced it is not a good idea for the two of you to be working together anymore." The weasel paused, his beady eyes watching for Jim's reaction across the desk. Jim managed remain still and keep a poker face. "Really," Jim finally said, one eyebrow rising slightly.

"Really," confirmed Ecklie. "I'm not sure what's going on between the two of you and," putting his hand up he signaled for Jim to hold off, "and as long as it isn't happening on the job it's none of my business. I mean, it's not like you are her superior or vice versa…"

Jim nodded, his eyes narrowing as he wondered where this was going. Ecklie continued, "but after everything that happened with Grissom…and Sara, I want to make some changes before it gets to be my problem."

"Changes?" Jim was feeling off balance. What could Ecklie change? They worked on different sides of investigations, but their path crossed constantly on the job. It was the nature of the job.

"Yeah, you and Catherine can't work the same cases. If she's called out on one, then you send one of the other detectives. And vice versa…"

Jim rubbed the back of his neck impatiently. "That's not always an option…"

"Actually Jim, what the Sheriff wants…asked me to convey to you…. He wants you behind the desk more, guiding the other detectives."

Anger rose in Jim's throat. "Something wrong with my investigative style? 'Cause I seem to remember breaking a few big cases for the Sheriff…."

Conrad sat forward in his chair, concerned by Jim's reaction. "No, not at all…you are very good at your job. It's just that…well, your knowledge and skills would better serve the department as a leader… even mentor to some of the younger ones….the Sheriff thinks."

Jim's eyes narrowed as he considered what Ecklie was telling him. "Behind the desk…off the streets….what is this, Conrad? You think I'm getting too old?"

The younger man sighed heavily. "No, not exactly. I mean, you have slowed down a little the past couple of years but… it really hasn't influenced your cases. And you're smart enough to take uniformed officers or younger detectives with you when you think you need them. It's just… well, you're a Captain but your style is more like a …I don't know…like a new detective. You're senior staff and you need to act like it."

"My style hasn't been questioned until now…the Haskell case and then…my outburst the other night."

Shrugging, Ecklie cleared his throat. "The others are looking to you for leadership, Jim. They don't…. we don't need you in the field as much as we need your skills overseeing things. Besides, after the Haskell case…well, while IA couldn't prove anything there seemed to be some lingering questions…"

Jim sighed. "Yeah, IA does like to question…." The shrugging he continued. "I just don't know…I mean, it's not my style….to just sit behind a desk and tell others what to do."

"You won't always be behind the desk, Jim. You can still monitor interrogations, even participate occasionally. And you'll take the lead on big cases. Hell, even I do it sometimes depending on the circumstances. But just…back off the front lines."

Suddenly feeling every bit of his sixty years, Jim nodded. "Okay, I get it…"

"Good." Conrad smiled his patent dismissive smile and Jim wanted to punch it off his face. Instead, he simply rose, nodded to his superior, and walked out of the room.

Back in his office, Jim looked around. His whole career and in a way, his whole life stared back at him. There was the huge picture from his academy graduation. And several plaques and awards were scattered on the walls and shelves. There were other pictures and mementos, including a hockey puck from Brendan Shanahan in his rookie season with the Devils. Jim smiled as his eyes settled on the puck. He'd been an especially rowdy fan in those days and rejoiced in the Devils first play-off season, even though they got taken out by the Bruins. He'd met Shanahan in one of the bars near the arena. The rookie was just a kid but handled himself well in a bar fight that broke out, Jim remembered. Jim had jumped in on the side of the Devils player and a couple of his friends. Shanahan sent him the signed puck after his next game, where he scored.

Sitting at his desk, his eyes fell on the pictures of Ellie, his daughter. How much had his career cost their relationship, he wondered. Hell, how much had it cost him with any relationship? Taking a deep breath, he pondered how much more was he going to let it cost him now. He could accept the inevitable or fight it and maybe lose everything in the process, including…especially his self esteem.

Settling back in his chair, he closed his eyes. _Back off the front lines… ride a desk…be a mentor…it's not so bad. You've ridden desks before. Hell, you wanted a desk job a few years back… _Letting out a deep breath, he let his thoughts continue_. But he's saying you can't do the job anymore. You're too old…. Face it, you are old. Most guys are retiring by now. You could retire…you've got the years in. But then what? And what about Catherine? How long is she going to stick with an old guy?_

While Jim was sitting in his office considering his future, Catherine was listening to Ecklie's little speech about her not working with Jim.

"What?" She exclaimed. "I'm supposed to avoid call outs if Jim's the detective on the case? That's….that's insane, Conrad. I don't have enough CSIs to…to…"

"It won't be a problem really, Catherine. Jim's going to be working the cases less… be more of an administrator…guiding all the investigations in his department instead of taking calls himself."

Catherine stared at him, confused. "Jim's …what?"

"He's a Captain, Catherine; senior staff…a leader. He should be leading. I realize you all are used to him being on the front line, but that's not really his job description."

"Yeah…right," Catherine said, unconvinced.

Storming out of his office, she headed straight for Jim's. His melancholy expression stopped her dead in her tracks. After a moment to collect her own emotions, she charged ahead. "What's this B.S. about you spending more time behind your desk?"

Jim looked up, startled. "Oh hey….yeah, came from the top; my skills are needed to guide the detectives under me."

"Bullshit," Catherine exclaimed.

His answering grin was appreciative "It'll be okay," he said calmly. "But I appreciate you…"

"No, it won't be okay. Are you just going to sit there and tell me it's what you want? You were miserable at CSI when you were spending so much time behind the desk."

"Yeah I was," he remembered. "But that was different; I was a fish out of water and… it was over ten years ago." His head twitched slightly and then he spread his hands as if to emphasize his thoughts. "Look, its time. I'm getting too old to be chasing crooks through alleys."

"But…"

Holding his hand up to quiet her, Jim nodded negatively. "No, really… it's fine. It'll be fine…"

Catherine stood across from him, confused. "Jim?"

He looked back at her, his expression wary. An eyebrow lifted in question.

"What's going on?" she asked. "This isn't like you…to give in so easily."

"Sure it is; I pick my battles… stick to ones I think I can win or are really worth fighting for at least. This isn't one of them. Really, I'm fine. It threw me at first but…I'm okay. Besides, I've slowly been backing away for the last few years…since I got shot actually."

Frowning, Catherine was unconvinced. "We'll talk more later," she said finally. Jim shrugged. "Okay," he replied lightly. Then a mischievous smile crept onto his face. "Breakfast?"

Smiling in return, Catherine nodded. "Bet on it." Then as quickly as she'd appeared, she was gone. Jim took a deep breath, a small smile on his face as she walked out. This wasn't going to be easy; _nope, not easy at all…._

Back at her own desk, Catherine tried to focus on her latest case. But her mind kept taking her back to Jim. There had been something different about him, something about the way he was with her…guarded; back to the way it had been before she'd chipped away at his walls.

Her mind filtered back over the last year. _Why did I go behind his back…undermine him? I thought I was taking care of my own, but…No, be honest. You saw a chance at breaking a big case…you wanted it that bad. And you hurt Jim in the process. Not to mention unleashing Nate Haskell…_

She sighed as she pondered the Haskell case again. _Ray killed him…murdered him_, she thought. And she suspected Jim knew the truth…was the one who picked up the flex cuffs that the evidence showed had been used but were not found at the scene. She'd tried to ask him about it, although not too directly, and he'd skirted her question. But he'd stepped over the line. She'd seen it in his eyes when she'd handed him the report_._ He'd withheld the truth for his own preservation but by answering her question the way he did, he kept her out of it too. _Was it that he didn't trust me or that he wanted to keep me clean?_ _But he knew what I suspected… and the way he looked at me…he thought he could trust me but he wasn't sure._ _He covered for Ray, just like he covers for all his own, including me from time to time. _Not that she'd killed anyone, but she'd made her share of mistakes. Jim had taken some hits for her when he was over CSI, just like he took the hit for Warwick over Holly Gribbs_. He didn't get the chance to help Warwick in the Gedda case but he would've, I think. That's who he is…_

Sighing, she considered the complex man that she was in love with…_I do love him,_ she accepted happily, wonderingly. _He's such a good man, one I'd always want in my corner… but he usually plays it by the book…keeps things so clean, beyond reproach. Which is why he can get away with covering. He knows the difference between right and wrong and always come down on the side of right, even when the lines are blurred, even if it isn't by the book…Why did I not see, why did I look the other way for so many years?_

"Well, I see it now and there's something _he's_ going to see," she said quietly. "He's going to see the light…He's _my_ man now."


	14. Chapter 14

Okay, so since 6:00 pm on the 22nd has come and gone and we're all still here, I'm thinking it's okay to post this now.

* * *

They had breakfast together at Jim's. And then they slept together in his bed but Jim was careful to keep it platonic; too platonic in Catherine's book. For his part, Jim was just happy to have her warm body next to him. And so they drifted off with him spooning behind her, both fully clothed.

Hours later when he woke up, Jim reflected on the situation. _Geez, you are getting old…beautiful woman in your bed and you still got your clothes on…and so does she._ But it was a contented reflection, one that made him squeeze her tighter to him, well, at least as much as his splint would let him squeeze. Happily, he realized he was slowly sliding down that slippery slope, the one that would deliver him into Catherine's arms.

She woke a little while later. By then, Jim had slipped out of the bed and showered. He was in the kitchen making spaghetti when she wandered in sleepily. "I missed you; it's cold in your bed without you," she complained as she eased up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Jim froze in place, relishing the feel of her behind him, around him. He put his spoon down and turned to encompass her in his own arms, a smile radiating on his face. "Wanted to let you sleep a while longer…" he said before leaning in for a gentle kiss.

Catherine eyed him quizzically as they ate in comfortable silence. There was something different about him on this evening. She cleaned the kitchen with Jim's help and the two settled on his patio to watch the sunset. Catherine kept glancing his way, noticing that he was in a contemplative mood; not something she normally associated with Jim.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said quietly.

Jim blinked, startled from his musing. "Oh I don't know… Just thinking how…you know, I got more years behind me than ahead and…well, I'm not exactly in my prime anymore."

"Yeah, well… I'm kind of in the same boat."

Jim frowned and then shook his head negatively. "No, you're not. I got ten years on you. And you are still very beautiful, although that's no surprise….you'll always be beautiful, I think."

"Jim," she drawled softly, accepting his compliment with a slight blush. And then she tilted her head slightly as it hit her what he might be thinking. "You think your age bothers me?"

"It bothers me. You sure you want to risk being stuck with the likes of me?"

Catherine looked into his steel blue eyes and saw the sincerity of his question. "You are worried…" she said apprehensively.

Shrugging, Jim nodded. "Yeah, I am. Ecklie's little wake up call was like getting cold water splashed on my face. It's not that I mind being pulled off the streets so much, but… I duuno; it just made me feel old. I'm not used to thinking of myself as old."

Catherine chuckled. "Because you're not, Jim. Let's be real here…. You've lost a step or two but you can still charge through closed doors with the best of 'em. And you're still the most intimidating interrogator we have. I've sat in on those with every detective in the house and the way you work a suspect… Nobody else comes close. Lou's tried it and it just comes off as trite, even though he's a taller man than you. Sam, he's more your size…well, he was before he put on that extra weight…"

"Okay, okay… I don't need a rundown on every detective in the department."

"No, but you also don't need to be singing the blues over old age. You're not ready for the retirement home just yet, Jim Brass. And I plan to put a lot miles on that body of yours before you are."

Catherine was satisfied when she saw a twinkle in his eyes. "You do, huh?" He asked impishly.

"Yes, I do. I know you've played a lot since you've been in Vegas but your playing days are over."

"They are?" He asked, looking startled.

Catherine smiled. "Bank on it. Jim Brass is about to become a one woman man." She watched as his eyebrows twitched, several emotions playing across his face before a smile crept over his lips.

"Honey, I haven't been a player for years. And I've always been a one woman kind of guy, really. I just couldn't seem to find a woman that could put up with me."

Catherine's eyes narrowed as she glared at him pointedly. "Well, you have now." His soft chuckle told her that he was getting the message.

Catherine's night was busy. They had two homicides and an assault and battery during a robbery. She chuckled when Jim sent Sam Vega to her homicide, giving Vartann to Greg and Sara. Nick took the robbery and Ray was on his way to meet her after finishing a counseling session.

Sam looked at her oddly as she greeted him, still chuckling. "Wanna share the joke," he said, clueless.

"No, no it's nothing…just something I said to Jim. Anyway, David's on his way with the van. I've walked the perimeter and am circling in while we wait. Mitch has talked to a couple of the neighbors who came to check it out but the first responder was Officer Adams over there. I think this is his first homicide."

Sam jotted a few notes and then walked over to Adams. Mitch, he knew, would be fine.

Catherine turned her attention back to the scene. Just as David drove up in the coroner's van, her cell hone beeped that she'd received a text message. Pulling it out of her pocket, she grinned when she read, "How u and SV getting along?" It was from Jim.

"OK. But he not u," she texted back.

"Less trouble," she received.

"Less fun," she countered.

"B'fast?"

"Meet u ur office?"

";)"

They fell into a pattern of texting while at work, joining one another for breakfast, sleeping, and then going their separate ways for work. It amused Catherine that she rarely got Vartann's cases. Sitting behind his desk which she had teasingly called command central, Jim would wait to see which CSI got called to what case and then he'd assign detectives. It worked often but on some cases the detectives got the first call and Jim was forced to assign detectives first. Even then, Jim knew Catherine well enough to know which case she was more likely to take herself and he sent Vartann to one of the others.

Finally, one morning a couple of weeks later over breakfast, she called him on it. "Hey," he said innocently. "Just trying to keep you focused on me."

Leaning over the table suggestively, she smiled seductively. "I know how you can narrow my focus…"

Jim shifted slightly in his chair as blood rushed through his body and the chair suddenly felt very hot and uncomfortable. "Yeah?" he asked trying to sound clueless.

"Um hum…. But…you'd have loose something…" she said as she licked her lips.

Jim took a deep breath. "Well, if you're talking about my virginity, I'm afraid it's too late," he said regretfully with twinkling eyes and a grin threatening.

Her eyebrow rose as she appraised him knowingly. "I was thinking more about the clothes," she said as she perused him.

Jim looked down briefly at his shirt and slacks. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"You're wearing them," she answered frankly.

"Ah…oh…" he said comprehending. Then holding up his broken hand, he continued. "But it's awkward with this. I might need help."

Catherine laughed at the impish smirk on his face. "I think help can be arranged." She leaned into him and kissed him. They'd kissed before, flirty kisses that teased and meaningful kisses that spoke assurances that they were heading down a path together. But this kiss and his response, this was different.

He eased her down the hall, his arm around her waist, his lips teasing the side of her face. In his bedroom, she turned and he kissed her again, this one a passionate one that told her today would be _the day_.

She'd promised help with his clothes and so her fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt. He stood quietly, watching her face, his own revealing his awe and his desire. Once his buttons were undone, he freed himself fro the shirt as she pulled her own to over her head, hearing his intake of breath as she did. Her eyes fell to his chest, still covered by his undershirt. Without thinking, her hands went to his shirt, tugging at it and freeing it from the waistband of his slacks. Quickly it was over his head and it was her turn to gasp.

Her hand went to his face, cupping his cheek as she leaned forward again for another kiss. This time, skin was on skin as their chests met. She felt his right hand behind her, working the clasp of her bra and heard his grunt of satisfaction as the garment fell away.

He pulled away from her slightly and lifted her chin with his other hand. Then very tenderly, he kissed her. And then the kiss wasn't so tender. And she responded, both to his tenderness and his need.

She felt a hesitation, slight but there and she pulled back to look into his eyes. He looked at her warily. "Jim?" she asked softly.

"You said this guy in your dreams…that he…that …"

"He was very sexy…and hot," she said huskily. Consternation crawled across his face and he suddenly looked unsure. "It's time Jim….time for you to make my dreams come true."

He lowered her to the bed and began making love in earnest. She thought she was dreaming again. He was over her enveloping her in his warmth. Somehow he was balancing on the one good hand, with his splinted arm supporting him at the elbow. And he was kissing her all over, his lips looking for and finding all of her sensitive spots. And then he went to work on her breasts, paying special attention to her nipples and it was her undoing. She felt herself arching towards him, needing him, wanting him. "Fuck me," she moaned, "I want you, Jim…" She felt him at her opening and arched to him more. His chest hair ticked her breasts as he nuzzled and kissed around her neck and face, whispering to her in husky tones, telling her how beautiful she was. She could feel the pressure of him at her opening, his tip just beginning to enter her…. And then he was inside. Spasms ran through her back and her insides quivered at the feel of him filling her. Her hands worked over his back, pressing him closer. "Jim," she whispered.

He held on as she shook through her climax and plummeted back to Earth, only to have him tease and stimulate her into another; this time he went with her. She lay curled against him, listening to his steady breathing as his heart began to find a normal pace. "So, I'm afraid to ask…" he said woefully.

"That was better than my dreams," she whispered.

He pulled back from her, looking at her skeptically.

She snickered into his chest as she admitted, "the man in my dreams always left me unsatisfied because I woke up. And this was…delicious."

He snorted. "Delicious huh?"

She settled into him again and lay still for a moment, thinking. "Jim…"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm going to quit CSI."

She felt his surprise as he shifted beneath her. "You what?"

"I'm going to leave it."

"Why?" She could hear his heart racing underneath her ear.

"Because you have to be able to trust me. And I don't want the job to ever get in the way of that again."

"Whoa…hold on. I don't want you to quit because of me….because you think I don't trust you."

She snuggled in closer and her hand traveled up his chest, through the graying mat of hair that covered it, and landed on the medal that hung around his neck. Fingering it, she turned her head up to kiss his neck. "I want your trust…your love more than I want the job. The job will end sooner or later anyway but I want us to be forever."

He pulled away from her and rolled to rest on his side, where he could look at her. His brow was furrowed and his gaze was intense. "You want me…like that, forever?" He looked skeptical.

Smiling at him, she nodded. "Forever."

His eyes flickered over her face, searching. Then his gaze moved away, his mind going somewhere out of the bed, out of the room even. And then he came back to her, his face a mask of decision. "Then I'm retiring too," he said simply.

"Jim, no…you don't have too. I mean, being a cop is…who you are."

A sweet smile settled over his face. "It is who I was because I had nothing else. But now, I have everything else…" His smile grew wider. "Besides, I owe you a trip to Cancun."

Her fingers played over his face, trailing down to his mouth and tracing his lips. "Cancun would be nice, but then what?"

"Then we take a page out of Grissom's book and we travel…go anywhere we want and stay for as long as we want. And we have fun," he said as he settled back down beside her.

"Fun… I like the sound of that," she said. "Wanna have some more fun now?"

He chuckled as he pulled her on top of him. "Thought you'd never ask," he said smugly as his hands began to move over her playground. He teased and taunted her, bringing her to the edge several times and then backing off to let her cool just a little. It was driving her to madness.

There were people at LVPD who thought Jim Brass had grown soft over the last few years. Catherine hadn't thought much about it one way or the other. Jim was always just Jim to her. But with him under her now, she knew he had not softened one bit, at least not physically.

She had known he spent time on the gym keeping in shape for the annual physicals all PD personnel endure, but the evidence indicated that he did more than just get by. Lou had been in good shape but he didn't have pecs like the man beneath her, nor were his arms as strong. As she ran her fingers over his chest and down, she smiled. Jim's fondness for Scotch betrayed him around the middle. Even though it was obvious that his workouts included those muscles, the evidence was there. But then, the man was on the back end of middle age and deserved some slack.

On the other hand, she was sitting on the evidence that belied the old softy myth about Jim Brass. While his equipment showed signs of age, it was still in good shape and at the moment, as hard as the proverbial rock. The man definitely had what it took to please a woman… and then some.

She had him snug between in her folds, their body fluids combing to create a slippery connection as she slid over him, back and forth. He was letting her run the show, his eyes watching her face as she moved over him, a smirk seemingly permanently affixed to his face. She stopped, grinning like an idiot at the expression on his face. "You just gonna watch?" she teased.

His smirk grew into a grin as he answered, "uh huh." Her responding chuckle was deep and wicked. "Nope," she said tauntingly. "Nobody just watches."

His right hand moved up to her face, his palm cradling her jaw and his fingers crawling up into the hair behind her ear. His expression changed, his eyes taking on a different glow and softening as he studied her. With a husky voice he told her, "this is _my_ dream."

His dream? Catherine's mind reeled at the revelation. "Your dream?"

She could easily see the love and tenderness that his eyes revealed. "Yeah…for years. But I never thought it would happen…never believed you could feel about me the way I feel about you."

"Jim?" she said softly.

His fingers caressed her scalp as he continued to gaze at her. "Why do you think I get so upset when you get hurt? I need to know you are safe. Otherwise, I go nuts. That's what bothered me the most about being told to ride the desk more. I couldn't be there to look out for you."

"But Sam and Lou…"

"Sam I could trust. But Vartann, he was too worried about your relationship… trying to get back with you; he couldn't keep his head in the job, which was investigating the crime but also about protecting you. So I didn't send him to where you were. I couldn't risk it…" His hand travelled to her face, his fingers brushing a swatch of hair back so that he could look into her eyes. "But if we're retiring, I can quit worrying about all those bad guys out there and can concentrate on just you."

Catherine looked down into his eyes, his dark blue, love filled eyes, and without a doubt she knew. This man really was the man of her dreams.

* * *

That's all I have written. When I finished the rough copy, it seemed like a good place to stop. Now I'm not so sure but I really don't have anything else in mind to write with it. So... I'm gonna call it complete unless more inspiration hits me later. If you have any thoughts on it, let me know.


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